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QUEEN MAKY. 



BY ALFRED TEXNYSON. 



THE ONLY UNMUTILATED EDITION- 



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IN FOUR ACTS. 



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EDITED 



By JOHN M. KINGDOM, 

Aulhoro/" Tlie Tliree Princes" " Marcoretli" " The Fountain of Beauty," " Giraldn, 

" 27ie Old Ferry House," " Madeline," " The Three Musketeers," 

" A Life's Vengeance," etc., etc. 



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No. 33 Rose Street. 

(BETWEEN DUANB AND FBANEFOBT STBEETS.) 



Copyright, 1875, by Bobert M. De Witt. 



If- 



.9-} Ki' 



Qri Kjr siAHY. 



CHABACTiiRS. 

Philip (King of Naples and Sicily, afterwards King of Spain.) 

Beginald Pole (Cousin to Queen Mary, a Cardinal, and the Pope's Legate to Eng- 
land.) 

Simon Benard (Ambassador from Spain.) 

iiE SiEUB DE NoAiLLES (Ambassador from France.) 

Thomas Crammer (Archbishop of Canterbury.) 

Stephen Gardiner (Bishop of Winchester and Lord High Chancellor of England.) 

Sir Nicholas Heath (Archbishop of York and afterwards Lord High Chancellor, 
in succession to Gardiner.) 

Edward Courtenay (Earl of Devon.) 

LoBD William Howard (afterwards Lord Howard and Lord High Admiral of the 

English fleet.) 

Sib Thomas Wyatt > ^ ^. ■, , , 

,n _ > (Insurrectionary Leaders.) 

Sir Thomas Staffoed > 

Sib Balph Bage.nhall (a staunch Protestant Gentleman and Member of Parlia- 
ment.) 

Sib Egbert Southwell (an English Gentleman.) 

Sir Henby Bedingfield (a blunt, honest Gentleman, having the custody, for a 
time, of the Princess Elizabeth, and/a«ora6Je to her cause.) 

Two of Wyatt's Men. 

A Pbisoner. 

*Edmi'nd Bonner (Bishop of London.) 

'Thomas Thiklby (Bishop of Ely.) 

SiB William Cecii. (an Adherent to the cause of Elizabeth.) 

Sir Thomas White (Lord Mayor of London ) 

, „ J (Insurrectionists and Adherents of Wyatt.) 

Anthony Knyvett ) 

The Codnt de Febia (in attendance upon King Philip.) 

Peteb Martyr. 

Father Bourne (a Catholic Priest.) 

Loud Willi a. ms, of Thame. 

Lord Paget ) „ .. . „ . 

Lord Petre \ *^"^^'^'^ Noblemen.) 

Peters (a Gentleman in attendance upon Lord Howard.) 

EoGEB (Servant to the French Ambassador.) 

William (Servant to Sir Thomas Wyatt.) 

•Father Colk \ 

♦Villa Garcia \ (Supporters of the Poiw.) 

*SOTO ) 

Stewabd of the Household of Princess Elizabeth. 

Old Nokes and Nokes (two Citizens.) 

Fibst, Second Third, Foubth and Fifth Citizens. 

FiBST, Second and Thibd Gentlemen 

*The Duke of Alva (in attendance on Philip.) 

Mary (Daughter of King Henry the Eighth by his wife Katharine of Aragon, aok 

Queen of England.) 
The Princess Elizabeth (her Half-Sister— Daughter of King Henry the Eighth 

by his wife Anne Boleyn.) 

MARCHioNEas OF Exeter (Mother of Courtenay, Earl of Devon.) 

Lady Clarence }■,,■■„,■,■ ^ ^^ ^ 

T T,, 1^ t (Ladies in Waiting to the Queen.) 

Lady Magdalen Dacres y o ~« » 

Alice (One of the Queen's Attendants.) 

Maid of Honor to the Princess Elizabeth. 

Joan and Tib (two country Women.) 



QUEKN MART. d 

Lords and Attendants, Members of Parliament, Gentlemen, Citizens, male and fe- 
male, Pages, Halberdiers, Trumpeters, Guards, Javelinmen, Banner Bearers, 
Ushers, Messengers, Archers, Aldermen, Councillors, etc., etc., etc. Ladies of 
the Court, etc. 
Those character marked thus 'i' do not appear in the acting portioni 



PERIOD— 1553 TO 1558. 

The Scene is laid in London and the vicinity, the County of Kent, the City of Ox- 
ford, and Woodstook, in the County of Oxford. 



TIME IN REPRESENTATION-ABOUT THREE HOURS AND A HALF. 



SGFNERY. 



ACT I.— Scene 1. — Aldgate, richly decorated. The flats set in the last grooves re- 
present the old-fashioned style of houses— stores on the ground level and each floor 
above projecting beyond the underneath one ; small latticed windows. The wings 
represent similar kind of houses ; the windows are all open and persons looking out, 
and from the windows and tops of the houses are flags and banners of all kinds, and 
garlands of flowers crossing the street. A massive old-fashioned archway or gate- 
way is placed across, in a slanting direction, from the left side of tlie flat l. u e., with 
heavy wooden gates, bound with iron, swung open. The upper part of the archway 
is deiiorated profusely with flags, etc. Murmurs and the ringing of bells should be 
heard just before the curtain rises. 

Scene 2.— A Room in Lambeth Palace. A plain oaken wainscotted apartment, aet 
in the 2d grooves. 

Sce.ne 3.— St. Paul's Cross. The flats set in the 4th grooves represent a partially 
open space with the outlines of a few ancient houses in the distance. In the centre 
at the back is a stone cross of ten or twelve feet height, mounted on a pedestal of 
three steps ; near it, opposite r. 3 e., a low antique oaken pulpit and reading desk 
— approached by a winding staircase on the side facmg the audience. 

Scene 4. — London. A Room in the Palace. Richly gilt panelling set in the 2d 
grooves. Doorway in the centre, hung with curtains fringed with gold. 

iScene 5.— A Room in the Palace. The flats set in the 4th grooves represent a 
richly decorated apartment with gilt panellings, painting, etc. Richly gilded ta- 
bles near k. and l. 3 e. ; cliairs and footstools, covered with crimson velvet, and gilded, 
on either side of the table. Doorway in the centre opening on to a handsomely or- 
namented gallery. Heavy velvet curtains to the doorway, festooned up with gold 
cords and tassels, and tringed with gold. 

A CT II.— Scene '< . — AUington Castle. The flats set in the 2d grooves represent the 
intwior of a richly carved oak chamber, with gilded panels and portraits of armed 
men. A portion of an antique bookcase shown l. ; antique oaken table and chair, 
R. 2 E., with writing materials and papers upon it. A large latticed window in the 
centre, opening on to a low balcony. 

(Scene 2.— Guildhall, in the city of London. A massive stone chamber with 
groined roof. The flats set in the 4th grooves represent one side of the hall, with 
long, latticed windows between the springing of each rib or groin of the roof. 
Oaken doors with massive brass hinges, and ornaments in the centre. A raised 
platform, covered with scarlet cloth, approached by two steps, near r. 3 e. (this can 
be pushed on as the scene opens). Upon the platform is a heavy built chair of 
Btate, with velvet and gold trappings, and over it a velvet canopy fringed with gold 
—the royal arms are fixed on the lianging drapery behind the chair. 



t QUEEN MAKT. 

Scene 3 —London Bridge, The flats in the 2d grooves represent an old-fashioned 
wooden house with low roof, etc., intended to denote the gate house of the bridge 
beyond which appears the river Thames and the battlements of the Tower upon the 
opposite bank. 

Scene 4. — Room in the Gatehouse of Westminster Palace. An antique chamber 

oak panelling, richly carved and gilded— Gothic window in the centre, opening on to 
a balcony beyond. Antique chairs with crimson velvet r. and l. of window. 

ACT 111.— Scene 1.— A Street in the City of London. The flats set in the 4th 
grooves represent houses and shops of a similar description to those shown in the 
first scene of Act I. L. 1 e., the entrance to the house, appears to be supported by 
rude pillars.* 

Scene 2.— Room in "Whitehall Palace. The flats represent the side of a richly 
decorated chamber. Folding doors, c, d. ; paintings on walls. 

Scene 3.— The Great Hall in Whitehall. The flats in the back, set in the upper 
grooves, represent a richly gilded panelled oak chamber, hung with tapestry. In the 
centre adaia or raised platform, carpeted richly, with three state chairs upon it, richly 
gilded, two under one canopy, for Philip and Mary, another a little distance off, for 
Cardinal Pole. The royal arms on the tapestry behind the chairs. A tribune 
or reading desk, slightly raised, near it. Seats b. and l., for the Spiritual and 
Temporal Lords, and cross seats for the Members of the House of Commons. A line 
of approach, kept clear, in the centre, carpeted. Doors k. and l. u. e. The sides of 
the scene are closed in, so as to represent two other sides of the chamber correspond- 
ing with that shown on the flats. 

Dais and Canopy. 



B. u. E, Door. • . State Chairs 

— Tribune. • . . . . 



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Scene 4.— The Porch Of St. Mary's Church, Oxford, and Street adjoining. Set in 
2d grooves ; the wings, r., represent projecting stone pillars with the base jutting 
out, so as to allow a person to sit upon it. 



*This scene in the original work, as will be observed by the text, is described a'i 
the Conduit in Grace Church, with a painting of the Nine Worthies, a religious sub- 
ject, which strongly excites the wrath of Gardiner; but, as this portion of the 
scene is (iniitted in representation it is sufficient for stage purposes topliiee it as one 
of the old streets of the city. 



QUEKN MAKY. O 

Scene 5. — ^Woodstock. The Apartment of the PniNCKSS Elisabeth. The flats are 
circuhir, with open windows on to the gardens, beautifuily laid out, and fountains, 
vases, statuary, etc., represented in the distance. Richly gilded tables and chairs r. 
and L. 3 E., and a couch b., near table. The windows r. and l. are closed, the one ia 
the centre is a larger one and open. Rich green silk and lace curtains, etc. This 
scene may, with good taste on the part of the scenic artist, be rendered one of the 
prettiest and most attractive in the play. It may, if desired, terminate the Act, 
and ihe next scene be omitted. 

Scene 6.— Room in the Palace. The same as Scene 5, Act I. ; set in the 2d grooves, 
with gallery beyond. 

ACT IV.— Scene 1.— London. Hall in the Palace. Oaken wainscotting witU 
gilded panels ; portraits, etc. ; set in 2d grooves. Archways l. and r. 2 e. 

Scene 2.— A Room in the Palace. Set in the 4th grooves. Large latticed window 
in recess, c; a richly gilded table, c, chairs r. and l., and footstools; a couch li. 
and L., upon the one, n., lays a rich Indian shawl. 

Scene 3.— Apartment in a House near London. A plain oak panelled apartment, 
set in 2l1 grooves, behind which the next scene can be placed in readiness. 

&«)!« 4.— Before the Palace. The flats set in the 2d grooves represent one of the 
stone wings of the building, with gothic windows; blinds down, lights seen through 
them. 

Scene 5.— A Room in the Palace. Set in the last grooves. Large windows, 
through which the moonlight falls— every now and then varying, as though clouds 
were passing over it. Table, c, and heavy cover with gold fringe ; massive candela- 
bra and lights, writing materials and chairs r. and l. A portrait of Kino Philip 
in armor, is suspended r. 3 e. A gallery runs across from L. u, b. to B. U. e. The 
roof is supported by pillars. 



COSTUMES. 



Philip.— ls< Dress : A rich velvet doublet of royal purple color, trimmed with gold ; 
a mantle of a similar color lined with satin ; dark trunk hose, hat, and feather ; 
sword, and various orders. Act III., Scene 3 : A rich suit of black velvet, with 
glittering insignia and the orders of the Golden Fleece and of the Garter. After 
this the other dress is resumed. 

Reginald Pole.— 1s« Dress : Dark velvet doublet ; trunk hose ; shoes ; short man- 
tle, lined with crimson satin ; collar ; hat and feather. 2d Dress : A scarlet cas- 
sock ; crimson hat with tassels ; red stockings, and richly embroidered shoes. 

Simon Renard. — A tight-fitting suit of black velvet, with black low-crowned hat, 
and feather ; shoes ; deep white collar ; gold chain round the neck, and the 
badge of the order of the Toison d'Or suspended on his breast ; short velvet 
cloak; sword; dark complexion, beard, nnd pointed mustaches. (Always 
cool, stern, and impassive, with a searching Rlance.) 

liE SiEUB DE NoAiLLES.—Doubletof dark-blue satin, and similar colored trunk hose ; 
shoes ; sword ; hat and feather ; short cloalc lined with yellow silk. 

Crammer.— A scarlet simar (or gown) and surplice, with fine white lawn sleeves, 
and a low black hat, and shoes. 

Gardiner. — A rich simar, with surplice, and fine lawn sleeves; black hat; shoes, 
etc 2d Dress, as CUanccllor : A scarlet robe, opened before, and purpled with 
minever, and decorated with gold embroidery. 

Sir Nicholas Hrath.— 1s< Dress : A plain colored simar (or gown), with surplice ; 
fine white lawn sleeves; black hat; shoes, etc. 2a Dress, as Chancellor: Same 
as Gabdinrb's. 

CoUKTENAV. — Blue velvet doublet embroidered with gold ; trunk hose ; shoes with 
rosettes ; low circular hat, and feather ; sword ; short mantle lined with white 
satin ; lace ruffles and collars. 2d Dress : A plain suit of pufi'ed or ribbed ar- 
mor, with head-piece arid plume, removing it on entering the Uueen's presence. 



6 QUREN MAUY. ' 

LiOKD Howard. — A rich doublet of dark blue velvet, lined ■with amber silk, and em- 
broidered with gold; blue trunk hose; high shoes; rosettes; sword, and low 
hat with feather. 

Sir Thomas Wyatt. — \st Dress : Doublet of dark-colored cloth : trunk hose; shoes; 
mantle. 2d Dress: Breast-plate; thigh-pieces, and armlets of polished steel ; a 
low-crowned hat, .ind feather ; gauntlets ; sword, and dagger. 

Anthony Knyvett.— Plain leathern doublet and trunks, with back and breast- 
plates of steel ; armlets ; hat, feather, and sword. 

Captain Brett. — A similar dresa. 

Sib Ralph BAGENHALL.^Plain chocolate-colored cloth doublet; trunk hose, with 
short cloak, ruffles, hat and feather, shoes, and sword. 

Sir Thomas Stafford. — A plain black dress of the same styie. 

Sir Robert Southwell. — A similar dress. 

Sib Henry Bedingfield. — Doublet, jacket, and trunk hose of black velvet, with 
short trunk of same matei-ial ; hat and feather, sword, and heavy boots. (He 
is described by the chroniclers as a grave-looking, dignitiod person, somewhat 
stricken in years.) 

Sir "William Cecil. — Dark crimson velvet doublet and mantle lined with white 
satin and embroidered with gold; trunk hose; hat and feather ; shoes ; sword. 

Sir Thomas White. — Gown of crimson velvet, with gold chain of office and insignia 
and the collar of S. S. (see Plancbe's British Costume, 1847) ; white silk hose, 
and shoes. 

Count de Feria. — A similar dress to Philip's, but of a plainer and more sober kind. 

Peter Martyr. — A plain priest's dress, with sandals and low black hat. 

Father Bourne. — Plain priest's dress of black serge, fastened with a cord round 
the wai.st ; cowl thrown back ; shaved crown ; rosary and cross ; sandals. 

LiOBDS Williams, Paget, and Petre. — Similar dresses to Codrtenay's, but varied 
in quality and color. 

Queen Mary. — Is Dress : Robe of violet-colored velvet furred with powdered 
ermine, and as a headdress a caul of cloth of tinsel of gold set with pearls, and 
above that a circlet of gold and precious stones. 2d Dress : A rich velvet dress, 
embroidered, with tight-fitting sleeves to the elbow, and lacft beyond. A tight- 
fitting cap over the head, and lace collar. The headdress is occasionally varied 
by a Mary Uueen of Scots' bonnet. 5d Dress : Rich white satin dress.with green 
velvet mantle trimmed with ermine and gold, and a Mary Uueen of Scots' bon- 
net studded with precious stones. Act III., Scene 3 : A rich black velvet dress 
and train trimmed with ermine; bonnet burdened with je^wels; order of the 
Garter and various other decorations. Act IV. : A plain black velvet dress, 
with rosary, etc. ; plain Mary Stuart cap, with pearls, and, in the last Scene, 
the hair slightly dishevelled and the countenance pale, haggard, and careworn. 

Pbincess Elizabeth. — \sl Dress : A similar dress to the Q.ueen'8, but not of so rich 
a description. 2d Dress: Rich damask silk dress, cut square at the neck, with 
long hanging sleeves ; a Mary Stuart headdress, with necklace, etc. Tlie dress 
may be varied at will afterwards, and, in Act IV., accompanied by a furred 
green mantle. 

Lady Clarence and Lady Magdalen Dacres. — Rich satin dresses, embroidered ; 
loose sleeves ; lace undei sleeves, with open dresses to the waist, and habit shirts ; 
Mary Stuart caps. 

^AiD OF Honor to Princess Elizabeth, — A similar dresH,but a naixture of green 
and white, the Tudor colors. 

Marchioness of Exeter.— A similar dress, but of a dark, sober-colored velvet ; 
Queen of Scots' bonnet, and furred mantle. 

Alicf.— A light colored satin dress, with open bodice, and partlett or undershirt ; 
hanging sleeves, and lace undersleeves ; hair curled, and, in Act IV., a richly- 
gilded dagger knife in her girdle. 

It is considered necessary to give only the costumes of the leading characters in 
detail. It would be needlessly lengthening the work so to give those of all the re- 



QUKEN MAKY. 7 

maining personages. They can very easily be formed from the following condensed 
extracts from vaiioiis standard works upon the subject, and by such means con- 
structed as near to the truthful representation of the several characters as the re- 
sources of each particular theatre will admit. Where an elaborate representation is 
attempted every requisite particular will be found in the works of Hall, Holbein, 
Lodge, Harding, Charles Knight, Strutt, and J E. Planche. 

In many respects there was not much difference in costume in Mary's reign to 
that in the two previous reigns of Edward the Sixth and Henry the Eighth; in 
some instances, however, alterations arose. The headdresses assumed a different 
character, having long lappets or ear-pieces hanging down below the shoulders stud- 
ded with pearls, jewels, and gold. Three-cornered caps of minever were also worn, 
and the close-tittiug cap reaching to the ears and known as " Mary (iueen of Scots' 
cap." The dress of the middle ranks was very varied ; plain russet coats and white 
kersey sloppes or breeches, with stockings of the same piece, were the ordinary suit ; 
and the apprentices in London wore blue cloaks in summer and gowns of a like 
material in winter. 

The women wore sheep, russet, or long woollen gowns, worsted kirtles, after- 
wards called petticoats, and white caps and aprons, with white underlinen. The 
principal novelty of Mary's reign was the flat round bonnet or cap, of plain velvet 
or cloth, worn on one side of the head and decorated with a jewel and single ostrich 
feather. The gowns of the wealthier classes were furred with sables in front and 
round the broad sleeves. 

Philip, on his marriage with Mary, brought into England a richer style of dress 
for the men ; particularly the close ruff and the doublet which fitted exactly under 
the chin, and the short Spanish cloak, all of which remained for a considerable time 
in fashion. The large stocks, or trunk hose, continued to be worn, but broad-toed 
shoes were discarded. The entire female dress was worn very close, so as to conceal 
the person as much as possible. The gown was frequently cut square at the bosom, 
but instead of the neck being bare it was covered almost to the throat by the part- 
lett, a sort of habit shirt, embroidered with gold and silver and silk. The sleeves 
were frequently of a different material and generally of richer stuff. Sometimes 
the gown was open in front to the waist, showing the kirtle or petticoat, and with 
or without a train. 

As regards the armor of Mary's reign, there was little alteration from that previ- 
ously in existence. The morion came into use. Brigandine jackets were worn 
by the archers, with steel skull caps ; the pikemeu and javelinmen wore back and 
breast-plates, with tassels gorgets, gauntlets, and steel hats ; black billmen, or hal- 
berdiers, who wore the armor called Almain rivet, and morions or sallets ; an huque- 
butiers similarly appointed. 

The raised armor was much worn, the ground being very frequently kept black 
and the pattern raised about the tenth of an inch and polished. Puffed and ribbed 
armor, in imitation of the slashed dresses of the day, was also occasionally used, 
the breast-plate rising to an edge down the centre, called the tapul, and later altered 
so as to present a salient angle in the centre, and a head-piece called a coursing hat, 
with a mentonniere or lower part that guarded the chin and throat, as well as the 
vizor, which turned upon the same sfcrew. One or more feathers were also fre- 
quently attached to the head-piece. 

Over the doublet of the nobles was worn the jacket, somet mes called the jerkin, 
the coat, or the gown ; a doublet jacket and hose of blue velvet cut upon cloth of 
gold, embroidered, and a doublet hose and jacket of purple velvet, embroidered and 
cut upon cloth of gold and lined with black satin, being particularly mentioned. 

The suite of the French Ambassador, Du Noailles, were gayly dressed in pour- 
points of white damask, barred with gold ; short mantles of crimson velvet, lined 
with violet taffeta and carnation-colored haut-de-chausses; hats, feathers, and 
swords. The suite of Simon Renard were all habited in tight-fitting suits of black 
velvet, entirely without ornament ; hats, feathers, swords, mantles, and t-hoes, with 
black rosettes. Of the civic authorities the o£S.cer bearing the mace before him 



8 QUEEN MART. 

■with crossed arms wore a dark-blue gown and three-cornered eap, ■whilst another, 
■wearing a similar gown, with a short uprigiit fur eap, carried tlie heavy gilded 
sword of state ; tlie slieriffa wearing scarlet cloaks and ornamental chains of office 
over their shoulders ; the aldermen, plain scarlet cloaks. 

The Pages were dressed in silken doublets of various colors, short velvet cloaks, 
lined with silk or satin ; silk or velvet trunk hose, and shoes with rosettes. 

The Tkdmpeteks and Maushalmen wore scarlet coats with broad cuffs, and more 
or less embroidered with silver and gold, according to their rank ; and the Usheks 
were dressed in suits of various colors, but generally black, and carried white wand^ 
whilst the Messengers arriving with news of the revolt wore leathern doublets and 
trunks, with back and breast plates, gauntlets and steel hats. 

The Spiritual. Peers were dressed in the ordinary dresses of the priesthood; 
simars or gowns, with surplices, etc., and mitres, and the Tempobal, Peers in the 
varied colored costumes of noblemen. It may also be mentioned with regard to the 
Halberdiers, that on great occasions they were elegantly dressed in stripped hose 
of black and tawny color, velvet caps, decked at the sidcj with roses, with doublets 
ol murrey and blue clotk, embroidered at the front and back with gold. 

J. M. K. 



FROFERTIES. 



ACT I. — Scent 1: Banners and flags of various colors and devices; garlands of 
flowers and various decorations ; pikes, lances, staves, crossbows, halberts, 
etc., for the Guards. Scene 3: Slips of paper with writing on; swords for 
Citizens; u loug-bladed knife; stones. Scene i: Gilded tables, chairs and 
footstools ; a jewelled miniature ; a rich gold neck chain ; large letter. 

A CT II. — Scene 1 : Antique oak table and chair, with writing materials and papers ; 
rich-looking portfolio ; written sheet of paper, for Ksyvktt. Scene!: Chair 
of state ; canopy supports ; pikes, etc., for Guards. Scene 3 : Written paper, 
for Wyatt's man. Scene 4 : Antique chairs with crimson velvet ; pikes, for 
Guards. 

ACT 111.— Scene 1 : Javelins; wands for Officers, etc., and for Gardiner's attend- 
ants. Scene Z: Three chairs of slate ; canopy; benches covered with crimson 
cloth, etc. ; carpeting; large written parchment roll, for Gardiner. Scene b: 
Gilded chairs, tables and couch; diamond ring, for Elizabeth. 

ACT IV. — Scene 2: Gilded tables and chairs; footstools and couch; rich Indian 
shawl; slips of paper, written upon. Scene b: Rich table and heavy cover 
with gold fringe; massive candelabra and lights, writing materials; gilded 
chairs ; portrait of Philip in armor, to suspend against the wall ; belt knife 
or dagger. 

It is not deemed necessary to give here more than the principal properties needed : 
no two theatres will mount the stage alike, and the minor details may be gathered 
from the text of the play and the general instructions as to costumes. 



QUEKN MAKY. 



STOET OF THE FLAY AND RE3IAEKS. 

Ki:-G Hekry the Eighth of England, bj' his marriage with Katharineof Aragon, 
the widow of his brother Arthur, to whom she was married but a few months, had 
issue only one child, Mary, whose career as a sovereign forms the basis of the play. 
After a married life of eighteen years, Henry, growing tired of his wife's attractions, 
sought for new ones, and, having found them .in tlie person of Anne Boleyn, the 
daughter of a gentleman of distinction and related to most of the nobility, the next 
step was to realize the possession of them. The beauty of Anne Boleyn is reported 
to have surpassed all that had hitherto appeared at court ; her education, ■which had 
been conducted at Paris, tended to increase lier personal charms ; her features were 
regular, mild and attractive ; her stature elegant, whilst her wit and vivacity ex- 
ceeded even her other allurements. It is not surprising, therefore, that a man of 
such an amorous nature as Henry, was deeply smiUeu with these irresistible charms 
at the very first interview. The difficulty was, how to get rid of his wife and be- 
come the owner of so much beauty, for, in spite of his high jjosition, ho found An- 
ne Boleyn was proof against any approaches except under the sanctil y of marriage. 
There was no alternative, therefore, but to obtain a divorce, and for this purpose 
he put it publicly forth that his conscience rebuked him at last for having lived so 
many years with his brother's wife, and he deemed it only just and proper that their 
connection should be severed. For this purpose ho sought to obtain from Pope 
Clement the Seventh a release from his marriage vows ; but not obtaining this so 
speedily as he expected, on the contrary, receiving great opposition, he applied to 
his favorite and chief minister, Cardinal Wolsey, for support, but here again he waa 
doomed to be disappointed. Wolsey was plUced in an awkward position: if he 
should assert that the mai-riage was not illegal, but, on the contrary, held good, at 
the same time that he pleased the Pope, who so viewed it, he would displease the 
King, who would speedily revenge himself by depriving him of his enormous 
■wealth, high rank and great power ; and, upon the other hand, if he supported the 
King he would offend the Pope most greviously, and subject himself to severe pun- 
ishment ; he, therefore, resolved strenuously to keep neutral, and pretended the most 
extreme deference for the opinion of Campegio, the Pope's nuncio or ambassador, 
who was then in England in regard to the proposed divoico ; thus endeavoring to 
shift all the responsibility from his own shoulders. But Henry saw through the ar- 
tifice and silently and surely determined to overthrow it ; accordingly he looked 
about for a man who could be moulded to his wishes, possessing equal abilities and 
less art than Wolsey, and accident threw in his way Thomas Cranmer. Matters 
were very soon arranged to meet the King's desires. Wolsey was deposed, Uis 
enormous and wealthy property and possessions confiscated, an indictment for high 
treason lodged against him, upon which he would undoubtedly have been found 
guilty and executed had not the proceedings been put an end to by his death at 
Leicester Abbey, upon his journey to London to take his trial. With his decease 
Henry severed his connection with the churcli of Home. Katharine w is divorced ; 
Cranmer himself pronouncing the sentence, fur which he was raised (o the position 
of royal chaplain by the King, but excommunicated by the Pope. By this decree 
declaring the marriage null and void on account of its being within the prohibited 
degrees of relationship, the Princess Mary was prouo^jnced a bastard. As soon as 
this was accomplished Henry married Anne Boleyn, but he very soon tired of her 
charms, languishing for the possession of the Lady Jane Seymour, one of her maids 
of honor, and he very easily found means and ready hands to assist in carrying out 
his designs. Accusations of infidelity were made against the Queen, which speedily 
resulted in her trial, conviction and execution, and the King's marriage with Jane Sey- 
mour the very next day after. There was only one child by his marriage with Anne 
Boleyn, Elizabeth, whom Henry caused to he bastardized the same as Mary, by or- 
dering the Parliament to give him a decree of divorce between the passing of the 
sentence upon, and the execution of, the unfortunate Queen. Thus, then, we 
know the origin of the two leading ladies in the play and tlie meaning of the oon- 



10 



QUEKN MAUY. 



versation between the citizens in the opening scene, as also the bitter hatred of 
Mary for Cranmcr, which only terminated with his destruction at the stake. 

Upon Henry's death he was succeeded by his only son, Edward, but nine years of 
age, who died after a brief reign of seven years. Previous to his death he was in- 
duced by the artifice and scheming of the Duke of Northumberland and other pow- 
erful noblemen, to nominate as his successor to the crown, the Lady Jane Grey, the 
daughter of the Duke of Suffolk, a young lady of surpassing beauty, who was married 
to Lord Guildford Dudley, the fourth son of Northumberland. But her accession 
met with the most violent opposition from Mary and her partisans. Mary had led .a 
life of great seclusion and restraint, and consequently became reserved and gloomy ; 
even during the life of her father she maintained her sentiments with vigor and reso- 
lution, refusing to comply with tlie forms and requirements of his new mode of relig- 
ion, after severing with the Pope. Her zeal grew with her years, and at times render- 
ed her almost furious, so that .she became not only blindly attached to her I'eligious 
opinions, but even to the popish clergy who maintained them. On the other hand, the 
Lady Jane Grey was strongly and devotedly attached to the principles of the reformed 
religion, its followers and upholders, and it is stated upon undoubted authority 
that, though but sixteen, her judgment had attained such a degree of maturity 
as few have been found to possess ; indeed, all historians agree that the solidity of 
her understanding, improved by constant application, caused her to be considered 
the wonder of the age. To a great extent she was ignoraut, however, of all the 
transactions that were being conducted in her favor, and was struck with grief and 
surprise when she was made acquainted with them, and it was with the greatest 
possible trouble that her father and father-ia-Iaw induced her to yield to their plans 
for accession to the throne. Orders were promptly given to proclaim her through- 
out the kingdom, but they were very loosely obeyed, and it is recorded that, when the 
proclamation was made in the City of London, there were few signs of pleasure or 
applause. 

It now became necessary for Mary and her supporters to act promptly and boldly. 
Upon the king's death she had retired to Kenning Hall, in the County of Norfolk, 
but the progress of Lady Jane Grey and her party called her from her retirement 
and roused her to action. She sent circular letters to all the'great towns and nobili- 
ty in the kingdom, reminding them of her right, and commanding them to xiroclaim 
her without delay. These circulars had the desired effect, and in a very short time 
she found herself able to reckon upon the support of between forty and fifty thousand 
men, while the small number who were following the Northumberland party be- 
came alarmed and irresolute, their leaders even fearing to lead them to an encoun- 
ter. Finding, therefore, that the cause was lost. Lady Jane Grey, alter a brief 
reign of ten days, resigned the crown and retired into seclusion. Northumberland, 
a!so finding affiiirs were getting desperate, and that it was impossible to stem the 
tide of popular opposition, attempted to quit the kingdom, but he was prevented 
doing so by a band of pensioner guards, who informed him that he must stay to jus- 
tify their conduct in being led out against their lawtul sovereign. Being tlius com- 
pletely hemmed in on every side, he was compelled to run the risky chance of clem- 
ency, which he failed to receive ; he delivered himself up to Mary and was soon after- 
wards executed in a very summary manner. Lady Jane Grey and her husband, Lord 
Guildford Dudley, were arrested, tried and found guilty, but Mary delayed, for the 
present, the execution of the sentence. She now entered London, and with vtry lit- 
tle effusion of blood, saw herself joyfully proclaimed and peaceably settled on the 
throne. At least, presumably so, although, as the dialogue of the opening and fol- 
lowing scenes show, there was some degree of mistrust and a disturbed and uncer- 
tain feeling as to her positive right to the crown, with indications of the revolution 
about to take place in religious matters and observances The drama opens with 
the state procession of tiie new queen through the city, accompanied by her sister 
Elizabeth, on a journey to tlie Tower of London, to release, with others, Courtenay, 
Earl of Devon, a young nobleman of good birth and handsome bearing, and whom 
it was much desired by the Council and people she should marry. 



QUEF.X 11A1:Y. 11 

Immediately nt'tcr reaching the throne, AI;iiy determinad to give back to the 
clergy their lonncr jjower, and thus to involve the country in a repetition of the 
horrors from winch it had only just emerged. 

Amongst the eminent clergymen who had suffered for the Catholic cause during 
the reign of Henry, by line or imprisonment, or confiscation of their estates, were 
Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, and Sir Nicholas Heath, the Archbishop 
of York. These, with others, were taken from prison, reinstati'd in their high eccle- 
siastical positions, and the sentences passed upon them repealed ; indeed, further 
patronage and power was bestowed upon tliem, G irdmer being raised to the dig- 
nity of Lord Chancellor. The next step was to get rid of some of those perso:.3 
who were deemed rank heretics, and foremost among these was Cranmer, now 
Archbishop of Canterbury. It was not at all probable that Mary could fail to bear 
an ill feeling towards the man who had pronounced her mother's mairiage null and 
void, and herself illegitimate, and one of her first acts is to cause his arrest, which 
occurs at Lambeth Palace, the London residence of the primate of the English 
church. Cranmer's humility, firmness and dignity when all the other bishops are 
fiyiiig from the country to avoid arrest, are very finely expressed in the second 
scene. In spite of the earnest entreaties of his faithful friend, Peter Martyr, who 
hurriedly seeks him to bid him fly and save his life before it is too late, he declines 
to do 80. There are still some faithful clergymen left who nobly stand their around, 
and with them he is determined to abide. Fervently and grandly he exclaims: 

" Step after step. 
Thro* many voices crying right and left. 
Have I climb'd back into the primal cliurch. 
And stand within the porch, and Christ with me ; 
My flight were such a .scandal to the faith, 
The downfall of so many simple souls 
I dare not leave my post." 

Peter Martyr bids him a last farewell and escapes just as tlie guards arrive to ar- 
rest Cranmer and conduct him to the Tower, from which place he was ultimately 
taken and tried, and burnt at the stake, in the city of Oxford. 

Mary's moroseness and bigotry gradually grow warmer and fiercer, and the feel- 
ing against popery is increased by a proposed alliance with Philip, Prince of Spain, 
a son of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who makes him king of Naples and Sicily 
in order that he may be of equal rank with Mary. To many of the nobility and 
people this strong popish alliance is extremely distasteful, and this feeling is much 
fostered and promoted by the French ambassador, the Sieur de Noailles, who sees 
that if he can only breed confusion among the people and lead to an outbrealc and 
the dethronement of Mary, good must result to France, for wiiich purpose he causes 
to be distributed about various papers suggesting the confinement, nay, even the 
executioa of Elizabeth, and others proclaiming her and praising her as Queen of 
England, liy this double action, so artfully arranged, he rouses, or hopes to rouse, 
the feelings of both parties, the Princess Elizabeth being a great favorite with the 
people. He even broaches the subject to the Earl of Devon, who consents to at- 
tend a meeting at his house, though not without some misgivings of safety in so doing. 
But Courtenay has another object in view, or rather double otiject ; he is of opiuioji. 
that he is a handsomer man than Philip, and even aspires to the Ciueen's hai.d ; ehe 
has pardoned him once and raised him in rank, and being of good birth, believes she 
has a liking for him ; rumor, however, has it that he made an offer and was rejected, 
consequently he turns his attention to the Princess Elizabeth, to whom he takes an 
opportunity of revealing his affection, and even pointing out a plan by which, with 
the assistance of the French king and many of the leading noblemen and gentlemen, 
some of whom are sojourning in France, she might be made queen. This point af- 
fords an opportunity for some very neat lines, and shows the Princess in true wo- 
manly instinct and longings, but guarding herself against any cunning or crafty 
policy which may lead her into danger and arouse Mary's suspicion and anger. Mary 
comes unexpectedly upon them and believes they are leaguing themselves together 
to prevent her marriiige with Philip ; she determines therefore to remove her sistei- 



12 QUEEN MAUT. 

from the palace, and, summoning Gardiner to her cotincil, arranges that the Prin- 
cess shall be sent into tlie country under the pretence ot pursuing her studies. 

Elizabeth receives the order not without tear and misgiving that harm to her ia 
intended; but her uncle^ Lord William Howard, assures her that nothing of the 
kind dare be attempted so lon;^ as he holds the position as commander ot the Eng- 
lish fleet. The ensuing scene introduces us more fully to Mary, wlio, gazing with 
admiration upon a miniature of her future husband, seeks praises of him trum all 
who approach her. In an interview with Gardiner she speaks veh' mently ot her 
determination to marry Philip, and some rather indiscreet remarks upon his p.irt 
lead to his abrupt dismissal. Nor does Da Noailles, the French Ambassador, fare 
much better upon his remonstrating against the proposed alliance with Spam, who 
is at war with France, and by which alliance the King fears that England will be 
brought into the conflict also. Mary reasons with him, and shows him the minia- 
ture, but, failing to praise it, he too is summarily dismissed, Mary angrily remark- 
ing, 

" You cannot 
Learn a man's nature from his natural toe." 

She now grants an audience to the Spanish Ambassador, Simon Renard, who art- 
fully and cunningly lavishes his soothing words of flattery upon her, and asserts 
that the minature does not do justice to his master — that the original is very far 
superior to the copy. He then proceeds to sow suspicion in her mind with regard 
to her sister, and even suggests that she should be well watched, and if caught trip- 
ping be consigned to the block. But much as Mary is against her, there ia danger 
in approaching such a step, observing, 

"I love her not, but all the people love her. 
And would not have her even of the Tower." 

Terminating the interview, Mary is about to join the Council who are sitting in 
Eession, when Renard returns with a letter he has received, containing the formal 
ofi'er of Prince Philip's hand. Snatching it with joy she hurries into the council- 
chamber — from which she soon returns with the tidings that the Council have ap- 
proved the union, and, overcome by her feelings, sinks into a chair, exclaiming rap- 
turously, 

" My Philip is all mine ! " 

Matters, however, without are not going on quite so smoothly ; much disaffection 
has been gradually spreading amongst the people, and schemes, not at present very 
powerlul, are being concocted for removing Mary and placing Elizabeth on the 
throne. Chief amongst the leaders of this movement is Sir Thomas Wyatt, a gen- 
tleman of wealth and learning, residing at Allington Castle, in the County of Kent, 
and associated with him is De Noailles and Courtenay. Receiving a dispatch from 
the latter, calling upon him if he moves at all to move at once, he prepares to do so, 
and this resolution is strengthened by the arrival of a large concourse of people to 
support him. After addressing tliem in a finely-written and powerful speech, he 
puts himself at their head, and they move on towards London, with the intention 
ot entering the city and making an attack upon the Tower. In the meantime Mary, 
though alarmed, is not idle. Summoning to her side Gardiner and Lord William 
How.ird, she hastens to the city, wliere, in the GuiMhall or council-chamber, the 
Lord Mayor and aldermen, with a large number of citizens, are gathered to receive 
her. Ir a bold and passionate address, most admirably written, she urges that the 
objection to the Spanish marriage is only an idle pretext on the part of the rebels, 
and that their real object is to make her a prisoner, seize and confine her council- 
lors, and administer the revenues of the country as they please. She vows that if 
she thought the marriage would bring loss or danger to the people or the state it 
should never take place ; indeed, she would remain single all her life, and appeals 
to the citizens for help. She meets with a ready response of support, and prompt 
measures are ialceii for preventing Wyatt's entering tlie city whilst she hastens to 
Westminster Pulaei.' for safety. Upon reaching Loudon Bridge Wyatt, to his an- 



QUKI-.X MAUY. 13 

noyance, finds that the drawbriilgre has been cut down and cast into tlio slreum, so 
there are no means of crossing the river excepting by goinf? round to the next bridge, 
a distance of ten or tw^'lve miles; wliither he proceeds accordtngly, receiving, liow- 
ever, before starting, a copy of a paper offei'iugyi hundred pounds for his apprehen- 
sion, v'' 

They are anxious moments with Mary. From time to time messengers arrive 
with the disheartening inielligence that Wyatt has broken through the guards and 
reached as far as Ludgate in the centre of the city ; then that the Earl of Pembroke 
had turned traitor ; then Courtenay hurries in with the intelligence that his m n 
had been broken up by the rebids; all seems nearly lost, when a messenger arrives 
with the joyous news that the rebels have been overcome and Wyatt taken prisoner. 
In an instant Mary rises to her natural spirit and dignity, and with the rapidity of 
lightning flashes forth an order for the Tower. AVlien it is said that Wyatt confessed 
that Courtenay was in the plot, " To the Tower with /lini.'" exclaims the Queen. 
And the Princess Klizabeth. "To the Tower with .'ler!" is the instant responsL'. 
Now then is the Jme for the crafty llenard to act. Speaking smoothly and softly 
he says, 

" I trust by this your Highness will allow 
Some spice of wisdom in my telling yon, 
^Vllen last we talked, that Philip would not come 
'iill Guildford Dudley and the Duke of Suffolk 
And Lady Jane had left us." 

" They shall die, replies," the Queen coldly. " And your so loving sister ? " jays 
Benard. Drawing herself erect Mary replies in firm and stex'u tones, 

" She shall die. 
My foes are at my feet, and Philip king." 

Thus ends one of the finest and most spirited scenes in the play, and with it the 
Second Act. 

Consequent upon the rebellion being crushed executions were abundant all over 
the country. Wyatt and a large number of his followers were soon disposed of, and 
hundreds were hanged in every direction, so virulent ran the blood in Mary's heart. 
In every London street were gibbets erected, and tradesmen executed in front of 
their own houses. But what excited the people most of all was the execution of 
Lady Jane Grey and her husband. Two days after Wyatt's apprehension they were 
ordered to prepare for death. On the day of her execution her husband desired per- 
mission to see her, but this request she refused, as she knew the parting would be 
too tender for her fortitude to withstand. The place at first designed for their exe- 
cution was without the Tower, but it being feared that their youth, beauty and inno- 
cence might occasion a new insurrection, orders were given that they should be exe- 
cuted within the Tower. Lord Dudley was the first who suffered at the block, and 
as his wife was passing on her way to take her turn, she met the officers bearing along 
tlie headless body of her husband to be buried in the chapel. She paused and looked 
upon the corpse for some time without emotion ; then, desiring them to proceed, 
moved onward to meet her fate. 

There is a beautifully worded description of her death in the first scene of the 
third act, not included in the acting version because it is too long and out of place, 
and unnecessary on the stage. 

At the head of those who drove these violent measures forward, Gardiner was 
most prominent, aided by Cardinal Pole, a cousin of Mary's, who had always most 
conscientiously adhered to the Catholic religion, and had incurred Henry's dis- 
pleasure, not only by refusing to assent to his measures but also by writing strongly 
against him. For this he was most warmly liked and cherished by the Pope, and 
was now sent over to England as Legate from the Holy S^. 

Philip had, at last, reached England, and the marria^ procession is recorded as 
having been grand in the extreme, and following close upon it, comes Cardinal 
Pole's interview with the Queen and King, to appoint a day for the meeting of Par- 
liament, to receive from him the absolution which the Pope had sent, torgivinE- 



14 QUEEN MART. 

them for having' striven agrninst, and passed measures injurious to, the Catholic 
cause, and offensive to the holy father. This is arranged to take place on St. An- 
drew's day, and accordingly both branches of Parliament are summoned tor that 
day. With all due formality and solemnity comes the humiliating spectacle of the 
English Parliament bending low before ^e Pope's representative, and acknowledg- 
ing with shame the sinfulness of their .ways. The absolution is given amidst tears 
and rejoicings ; the only member having iirmness and courage to stand against the 
degradation of the scene being Sir Ralph Bageahall, who is, in consequence, arrested 
for the offence, but afterwards released. 

The persecution of clergymen now sets in stronger than ever. Hooper, Bishop of 
Gloucester, and Rogers, Prebendary of St. Paul's, suffered martyrdom. Bonner, 
Bishop of Loudon, bloated with rage and luxury, let loose his vengeance without re- 
straint, and seemed to take a pleasure in the pains of the unhappy sufferers, whilst 
the (iueen, by her letters, exhorted him to pursue the pious work, as She termed it, 
without pity or interruption. Ridley, a former Bishop of London, and Latimer, 
Bishop of Worcester, wei'e condemned and suffered togethei-, and soon after them 
came Cranmer. Upon the representation that his life would be spared he recanted 
Protestantism, and embraced the Romish faith ; but Gardiner and Mary had re- 
solved upon his death, and he was sentenced to be burnt alive. He was brought to 
St. Mary's Church, in the City of Oxford, where he was desired publicly to repeat 
his belief in popery ; but this he steadily and firmly refused, and was led off to the 
stake. Upon the fire beginning to kindle around him his energy and courage re- 
turned in double force; he stretched forth his right hand and held it in the flames 
until it w:is consumed, while he frequently cried out, " That unworthy hand ! " 

In the Fourth Act a full account of all these proceedings will be found written in 
most beautiful and telling language ; but certainly the scenes are not suitable to be 
put upon the stage even if time would allow its being done. The account, however, 
of the execution, delivered by one Peters, who witnessed it, is retained. It is most 
admirably written, and, well delivered, must prove one of the gems of the piece. By 
Mary's orders her sister was sent to Woodstock, in the County of Oxford, to remaia 
there under the care of one Sir Henry Bedingfleld, a rough but honest gentleman, 
who is really favorable to her cause ; but she is not allowed to remain there long, 
for Philip and Mary conceive a plan for uniting her with Prince Philibert, and a 
message is therefore dispatched requiring her presence in London, a command which 
Elizabeth obeys with much fear and sad misgivings as to the result. 

Events now begin to assume a shape which bode no good for the peace, health, or 
happiness of Mary. The chance of any issue of her marriage is more remote than 
ever, and Philip day by day grows sterner and colder in his demeanor. Sir Nicholas 
Heath has replaced Gardiner as Chancellor, and the Queen looks to him to preserve 
Calais, in which Philip joins, the more so as he announces his intended departure 
for Spain to look after the affairs of his own country. This is indeed sad news to 
the already half broken-hearted Queen. She begins to be sensible of the dangerous 
position she occupies— of the growing hatred of her subjects— of the approaching 
hour of retribution for the murders she has committed under the name uf justice 
and religion— and she trembles at the thoughts of being left alone. In vain she ap- 
peals to her husband to remain ; a cold denial is the only answer, with an intima- 
tion that she must proclaim the Princess Elizabeth her heir; idolizing Philip, and 
submissive to his slightest wish, this she promises. So far, then, Philip's scheme 
looks well ; since all hope of issue has fled he perceives how fast his wife is break- 
ing, that death is rapidly approaching, and how strong his position would be if he 
could bring about a marriage between himself and Elizabetli ; with this object he 
instructs his emissary, the Count de Feria, to obtain an audience of the Princess, 
and cautiously sound her. upon the subject. Not only with the Queen, but with 
Cardinal Pole, are matters assuming a very serious aspect. Pope Julius the Third 
has been succeeded by Paul the Fourth, who views the Cardinal's conduct in a dif- 
ferent light to that which his predecessor did, and tlu'refoie cites liim to Rome upon 
a charge of heresy. Pole in his persecutions exceeded Gardiner, so much so that he 



QUEEN MART. 15 

acquired the name of the scourge and butcher of the English Church, and now to be 
rewarded only by a trial before the Inquisition is a sore death-blow to his' ambition, 
dignity, and pridw, and it is in vain that the Queen, prostrated as she herself is, en- 
deavors to console him. In the very depth of his bitter sufferings he draws an ago- 
nizing picture of himself and the Queen united in the bonds of misery. 

" Our bridesmaids are not lovely — Disappointment, 
Ingratitude, Injustice, Evil-tongue, 
Labor in vaiu. **#*** 
Our altar is a mound of dead men's clay, 
Dug from the grave that yawns for us beyond ; 
And there is one Death stiinds behind the Groom, 
And there is one Death stands behind the Bride." 

And it was not long before his wretched forebodings were literally realized. 
The miserable position of both was greatly increased by scraps of paper being 
scattered about the palace with words of scornful and threatening meaning •written 
upon them ; indeed, everything now tended to increase the illness of both and has- 
ten on their approaching dissolution. But the most fearful blow as yet was the 
news of the loss of Calais and Guisnes, which had been retaken by the French. It 
is reported that this news filled the whole kingdom with murmurs and the Queen 
with despair, and she was heard to say that when dead the name of Calais would be 
found engraven upon her lieart. A fever sets in, and in her last extremity she de- 
termines to send for her sister, entrusting the Count de Feria with tlie message. 
This mission admirably suits his purpose to do his master's bidding, and he sounds 
Elizabeth, as he suggested. The subject, however, meets with but a cold reception, 
and is indeed entirely forgotten in the genuine an.;er which she evinces upon learn- 
ing that he has kept the news of the Queen's alarming Illness to the last. Mary is 
now sinking fast ; her mind begins to give way, and the horrible atrocities which 
she has sanctioned rise up in fearful reality before her fevered imagination. In a 
moment of phrenzy her eyes rest upon a portrait of her husband ; a fine scene ensues 
in which she exclaims : 

" This Philip shall not 
Stare in upon my haggurdness ; 
Old, miserable, diseased. 
Incapable of children. Come thou down," 

backing the picture to pieces with a knife and exclaiming with triumph, "Lie 
there!" But suddenly a reaction takes place, and with a burst of agonizing grief 
she exclaims, *' O God, I have killed my Philip! " and sinks down exhausted. This 
scene, indeed, the whole act, is the finest in the play. Mary's end is at hand — she is 
led to her chamber just at the moment Elizabeth arrives, and almost immediately 
expires, upon which the Princess is immediately proclaimed Queen of Ensl^md. 

And thus ends the greatest dramatic poem that has be^ published for many years 
past. 

Of the beauty and power of many portions it is impossible to speak too highly, 
but the dramatic construction is faulty ; theie is not much interest excited in the 
progress of the events or in the cUaraccers so very numerously introduced, Mary is, 
of course, the sun of the drama, round which all the other characters revolve, bke 
planets, laige and small. I; is a magnificently drawn character throughout, and 
about the most faithfully depicted one that I have read ; the delineation of it calls 
for the exhibition of great mental iind physical qualifications on the part of the re- 
presentative, more especially in the last Act, which is admirably constructed and 
written ; affording scope and opportunity for making it one of the most stirring 
and grandest pieces of acting ever seen upon the stage, and worthy of a Ristori or a 
Eachel. 

Philip's character- cold, unfeeling, grasping and repulsive— is well rendered, and 
affords good opportunities for a careful actor. 

Simon Renard — cunning, tricky, keen and treacherous— is also well portrayed, and 
there is plenty of scope tor some telling points and situations during the progress of 
the play, by calm and careful action. 

The Princess Elizabeth is vtry nicely drawn, and the scene at Woodstock, if artia 



16 



QUKEN MAKY. 



and actov combine, may be made one of the most attractive i.\ the dratna, moro 
especially by the employment of a thoroughly sweet and efficient vocalist to render 
the quaint old English sons; there introduced. 

Many of the other characters, for instanco, Pole, Gardiner, Howard, Cranmer. the 
~Earl ot Devon, the staunch Bagenball, Wyatt, etc , can be made very cffeclive by ju- 
dicious handling, not forgetting Peters, in the fine speech descriptive of Cranmer's 
death. 

It was with considerable diffidence and misgivings that I undertoolc to dramatize 
this work— the task was one beset with much difficulty. After many careful perus- 
als and much study, I struck out my course. The last Act is not only a fine piece of 
liferary composition, but is great in a dramatic sense, affording scope for magnificent 
acting. I determined, therefore, to make that my grand point and aim, gathering 
from the previous portions all the dramatic incidents I could, although not quite in 
unison as regards time and space, omitting much that is powerful, beautiful and im- 
pressive in perusal, but which would be uninteresting, tedious and tame upon the 
stage, and thus work up, step by step, to the last Act. Whether I have succeeded 
in producing a good acting drama or not, I must leave to the public to determine. I 
can only assure them that I have used my best endeavors, bcneslly and zealously, 
to do so. I am proud to say that I have always found favor at their hands, and, if I 
deserve it, I ask it now. 

J. M. Kingdom. 



EXPLANATION OF THE STAGE DIRECTIONS. 
The Actor is supposed to face the Audience. 



B.SE. 



/ 



SCENE. 



\ 



B.SZ. 

/ 



/ 



\ 



\ 



z^2e. 



I.. IE. 



C. 

ATTDIENOT. 



L. Left. 

L. c. Left Centre. 

1.. 1 E. Left First Entrance. 

L. 2 E. Left Second Entrance. 

L. 3 E. Left Third Entrance. 

L. V. E. Left Upper Entrance 

(wherever this Scene may be.) 

P. L. c. Door Left Centre. 



c. 

E. 

R. 1 E. 
li. 2 E. 

n. 3e. 
E. u. E. 

D. E. C- 



Centre. 

Pvight. 

Eight First Entrance. 

Right Second Entrance. 

Eight Third Entrance, 

Eight Upper Entrance. 

Door Eight Centre. 



QUKKN MAlir. 17 

BILL FUR PROGRAMMES. 
ACT I. 

Scene 1.— LONDON. ALDGATE, RICHLY DECORATED. 
The Royal Procession— Qve.'en Maey and the Princess Elizabeth — The 
Rimiors of Marriage. 
Scene 2.— *A ROOM IN LAMBETH PALACE. 
FUf/hf of the Clergymen and Bishops— M.A.niYVi, Urges Ceanmeb to Escape 
— His Noble Refusal — A Last Farewell — Arrest of CRANaEii. 
Scene 3.— ST. PAUL'S CROSS, LONDON. 
Catholic Preaching to the Mob— Riot and Tumult— The Eael of Devon 
Saves Fatueb Bouene's Life — Attach upon the Spanish Servants — 
The Plot of the Frencli Ambassador — The Eael of DTZVoy! Enstiared 
— The Treasonous Papers. 

ScFNE 4.— LONDON. A ROOM IN THE PALACE. 
The Eael of Devon ■«'« Love — Elizabeth makes Mirth — Queen Maey a 
Listener — A Summons for the Princess — The Fear of Treachery and 
Death. 

Scene 5.— ANOTHER ROOM IN THE PALACE. 

Queen Maby Admiring the Miniature of hei- Intended Husband — Story of 
Lady Jans Geey — Gaedinee in Disgrace — Court Scandal— Arti- 
fice and Cunning of the French Ambassador — Simon Renaed Plays 
his Cards Well — Arrival of Philip's Offer of Marriage — Energetic 
Action of the Queen — The Council Sanctions it — Triumph of Maby — 
" My Philip is all mine ! " 

ACT 11. 

Scene 1.— APARTMENT IN WYATT'S CASTLE, IN KENT. 

The Story of a Gallant Father — Dispatch from the Eael of Devon — The 
Blow Must be Struck — Arrival of Bands of Rebels — Commencement 
of the Insurrection — Noble Speech of Wyatt, aiid March for London. 
Scene 2.— THE GUILDHALL IN THE CITY OF LONDON. 

Assembling of the Lord Mayoi; Aldermen and Citizens — Arrival of Queen 
Maby — An A^^peal for Help to Stop the Rebellion — Enthusiastic Recep- 
tion and Promise of Thirty Thousand Men. 

Scene 3 —LONDON BRIDGE. 

Sib Thomas Wyatt Checkmated -The Bridge Destroyed— Reward for his 
Ajiprehension — Cruelty of the Insurrectionist Leadcr^The March for 
King stem. 

Scene 4. — ROOM IN THE GATEHOUSE OF WESTMINSTER 
PALACE. 
Maby Waiting for the Verdict — Defeat of the Guards— Bravery of the 
Queen— The Eael of Devoir's Flight— News of the Victory— ^ya.tt: 
taken Prisoner — Order for the Arrest of the Eael of Devon and the 
Pbincess Elizabeth— TAe Sentence of Death ! 
ACT III. 
Scene 1— A STREET IN THE CITY OF LONDON. 
The Staunch Protestant Cageniiall — Tioyal Procession of Philip a7id 



18 QUEEN MAllY. 

Mae^? — Tyrannical Condtict of Gaedinee — "Stake and Fire — Sharp 
Work and Short .' " 

Scene 2.— ROOM IN WIIITEflALL PALACE. 

Arrival o/ the Pope's Legate, CAT^iyiy Ah Pole — Absolution from Rome 

for the English JVation — Parliament Ordered to Assemble. 

SciLM! 3.— THE GREAT HALL IN WHITEHxVLL. 
The Lords and Commoners Assembled— Arrival of the King, Queeri and 
Cardinal— The Peniienial Addrest read by Gardiner — Cardinal 
Pole Gives Absolution — Exciting Scene— The JVbble and Honest 
Bagenhall Indignantly Refuses to Kneel— His Arrest. 
Scene 4.— Till: PORCH OP ST. MARY'S CHURCH, OXFORD. 
The Gossip oftioo old Country Women— People beir.g Burned and Hung 
in all Directions— Account of the Burning of Cranmer. 

Scene 5.— APARTMENT OF THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH, AT 
WOODSTOCK. 

A Royal Prisoi\er — "Much suspected, of me nothing proven can be, 
quoth Elizabeth, Prisoner "—A Milkmaid Melody—" Robin came 
and kissedher whilst milking thecow" — A Rough but KindandHon- 
cit Keeper— A Summons from the Queen— Fears and Doubts o/" Eliz- 
abeth — Departure for London 
jY. B. — The next Scene can be omitted, if desired, and the Act end here. 
Scene 6.— A ROOM IN THE PALACE. 

Refusal of the Princess to Marry— Philip's Disappointment ivith JIary 
— Simon Renards Cards Played Well Again— Intended Departure 
of the King for Spain— A Crafty Courtier— A Wije's Troubles. 
ACT IV. 
Scene 1.— LONDON. HALL IN THE PALACE. 
Sorrow Falls Upon the Queen — Intended Departure ofViULXP—A Wife's 
Devotion — Proposals for War Refused — A .Xew Rebellion Threaten- 
ing^SchemiiUj of Philip /o Marry Elizabeth — Renard Again Plays 
his Cards H'e//. 

Scene 2— A ROOM IN THE PALACE. 
The Queen and the Cardinal — Pole Charged with Hrresy — Tlie Scourge and 
Butcher of the Fnglish Church — Remorse and Despair begin their Work 
— Threatening Warnings are Cast About — A Fearful Bloiv — Philip 
Gone a>id Calais Taken — The End cf Map.y Approaches — Death of the 
Earl of Devon — Message to Elizabeth — The Fatal Fivcr Begins. 
Scene 3.— APARTMENT IN A HOUSE NEAll LONDON. 
Elizabeth and the King's Messenger — A Subtle Envoy Pleads his Master's 
Cause — The Hints of Mary's Death and Another Marriage — Virtue 
and Caution — News of the Queen's Illness and De^mrture of the Princiss 
for London. 

Scene 4.— LONDON. BEFORE THE PALACE. 
Approaching Death o/Maky — Illness of Cardinal Pole — The End Draics 

Nigh. 
Scene 5.— A ROOM IN THE PALACE. 
The Queen's Agony — " I am dying, Philip ; come to me." — Only the Portrait 
j^fjt — Feeling of Approaching Death — Lady Clarence's Dcseriptio:s 
of Love and Happiness — ^Iaky's Mind Ber/ins to Wand r — Visions of 
the Past, too Horrible to Bear — Phrenzy of the Queen and Destruction 
of Philip's Portrait — Retreat of Maiiy to Iter Chamber — Arrival of 
Elizabeth — The Last Hours of the Sister — Dealh of ^IXT^Y and Pro- 
clamation of the Pr.ivcEss Eltzab :th c.s Queen of England I 



QITEEISr MARY. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. — Aldgate* rlcldj decorated. As the curtnin rises all is husfle and 
confuswn, and a hubbub of voices ; the Citizens assembled, xoilh ivomen, 
and ehildfi n are scattered over the stage, thei/ talk and latujh, as do also 
those looking out of the windows. Tlie Marshalmen move about very 
busily, R. and l. In ihc front, most conspicuous, are First, Second, and 
Third Citizicns, r. ; Old Nokes, ami Nokes, and First, Second, 
a?id Third Gentlemen, l. 

Maeshalman {bustling about). Stand back, keep a clear lane. AVhen 
will her Majesty pass, sayst thou 1 why, now, even now ; wherefore 
<Iraw back your heads and your horns before I break them, and make 
what noise you will with your tongues, so it be not treason. Long live 
Queen Mary, the lawful and legitimate daughter of Ha,ny the Eighth i 
Shout, knaves ! 

Citizens. Long live Queen Mary ! 

First Citizen (r.). That's a hard word, legitimate ; what does it 
mean ] 

Second CiTiZEK (u.). It means a bastard. 

Third Citizen (r. c). Nay, it means true-born. 

First Cit. Why, didn't tiie Parliament make her a bastard 1 

Second Cit. No ; it was the Lady Elizabeth. 

Third Cit. That was after, man ; that was after. 

First Cit. Then which is the bastard 1 

Second Cit. Troth, they be botli bastards by Act of Parliament and 
Council. 

Third Cit. Ay, the Parliament can make every true-born man of us 
a bastard. Old Nokes, can't it make thee a bastard 1 ihou shouid'st 
know, for thou art as white as three Christmasses. 

Old Nokes {dreamily, l. c). Who's a-passing 1 King Edward or 
King Richard ? i 

Third Cit. No, Old Nokes. 

Old Nokes. It's Harry I 

Third Cit. It's Queen Mary. 

Old Nokes. Tiie blessed Mary's a-passing ! {falls on his knees.) 

NoKES. Let fatlier alone, ray masters ! he's jiast your questioning. 

Third Cit. Answer thou for him, then ! thou art no such cockerel 
thyself, for tliou was born i' the tail end of old Harry tlio Seventh. 

Nokes. Eh I that was afore bastard-making began. I was bom true 

* The name of one of the chief gatsa or entrances into old L^ondon, of which there 
■were several ; but all are now gone cxceptint? the westerly one, Tcmjiie Bar, which 
blocks up the direct thoroiiglifaros, ths Ktran'd and Ploet street, from the West End 
or fashionable p.art of London to the City. 



20 QTJEEN MAUr. [ACT I. 

man at five in the forenoon i' the tail of old Harry, and so they can't 
make me a bastard. 

Third Cit. But if Parliament can make the Queen a bastard, why. it 
follows all the nio:e that tliey can make thee one, who art fray'd i' Iho 
knees, and out at elbow, and bald o' tlie back, and bursten at the toes, 
and down at lieels. 

NoKES. I was born of a true man and a rinsi'd wife, and I can't argue 
upon it; but I and my old woman 'ud burn upon it, that wouRl we. 

Marshal. What ! are you cacklins of bastardy under the Queen's 
own nose ] I II have you floCT4'd and burnt too, by tlie Rood* I will. 

First Cit. He swears by the Rood ! Whew ! {iruripets ivitlioid.) 

" Second Cit. Hark ! the trumpets ! " 

lii/ derjrces the M.4rshalmen have succeeded in forcing the people into order, 
so that a clear space is kept in a ctrcnlar form from r. 2 and 3 e. up to 
the gate, l. r. e. — a few of the eroird, to increise the effect, bitng kept 
in the corners of the stage, L. and v.. 1 e., and the rest against the fiats ; 
at the ivindou's all is bustle and excitement, l^rumpcis soimd louder, and 
the procession enters slowhj, R. 3 e. Trumpeters, HALr.EKDiEKS, 
Banner BEAREits, Arciier-s, Mary and Elizabeth nwuntedon ivhite 
horses, side by side, Packs, Guards, etc. It passes slotvlg doicn (oivards 
the front of the stage amidst the shouts af the people, ringing of bells _ fir- 
ing of arquebuses, and waving of flags and handkerchiefs from the icin- 
doivs — pausing for a moment as ^Iary and Elizabfth reach the centre 
of the sta;je, to enable them to acknowledge the applause ; then passing 
slowly round through the gateway, i.. u. E., amidst shouts of " Long live 
Queen Mary ! " " Down wUh all traitors ! " " God save her Grace ; 
and death to Northumberland ! "/fi/ZoitT^^ by all excepting Firut and 
Second Gentle.men'. 

First Gentleman (r. c). By God's light, a noble creature, right 
royal. 

Second Gentleman (l. c). Slie looks comlier tlian ordinary to-day ; 
but to my mind the Lady Elizabeth is the more noble and royal. 

First Gent. I mean the Lady Elizabeth. Did you hear (I have a daugh- 
ter in her service who rei)orted it) that she met the Queen at Wausteadf 
with five hundred horse, and the Queen (tho' some .say they be much 
divided) took her hand, call'd her sweet sister, and kiss'd not her alone, 
but all the ladies of her following. 

Second Gent. Ay, that was in her horn- of joj- — there will be plenty 
to sunder and unsister them again ; this Gardiner for one, who is to be 
made Lord Chancellor, and Avill pounce like a wild beast out of his cage 
to worry Cranmer. 

First Gent. And furthermore, my daughter said that when there 
rose a talk of the late rebellion, she spoke even of Northumberland i)iti- 
fully, and of tho good Lady Jane as a ])oor innocent child who had but 
obeyed her father ; and furthermore, she said that no one in her time 
should be burnt for heresy. 

Second Gent. Vv'cll, sir, I look for happy times. 

FiiisT Gent. There is but one thing against them. •' I know not if 
you know." 

Second Gent. I suppose you touch upon the rumor that Charles, the 

* Rood, was a name formerly given to the figure of Christ on the cross erected ia 
Romau Catholic churches; hence the alarm expressed by the Protestant citizens, 
on liearing the oath of the Marshalman. 

t A small town a few miles east of London, where there was once a royal residence. 



ACT I.] 



auKEN maet. 21 



master of tlie world, has offei'd her his son Philip, the Pope and the 
devil. I trust it is but a rumor. 

First Gent. She is goino; now to the Tower to loose the prisoners 
there, and among them Courtenay, to be made Earl of Devon, of royal 
blood, of splendid feature, whom the council and all her i)eople wish her 
to marry. " May it be so, for we are many of us Catholics, but few 
" Papists, and tlie Hot Gospellers will £o mad upon it. 

" Skcond Gent. Was she not betrcth'd in lier babyliood to the great 
" Emperor himself 1 

" First Gent. Ay, but he's too old. 

" Si-.coND GuNT. And again to her cousin Reginald Pole, now Cardi- 
"nal, but I hear tiiat he too is full of aches and broken before his day. 

First Gent. " 0, the Pope could dispense with his Cardinalate, and 
" his achage. and liis breakage, if that Avere all : " but will you not fol- 
low tiie procession 1 

.Second Gent. No; I have seen enough for this day. 

First Grnt. Well, I shall follow; if I can get near enough I shall 
judge with my own eyes whether her Grace incline to this .splendid 
scion of Plantagenet. 

[Uxits through gateway. Second Gentleman exiti r. 1 e. 

SCENE II. — A room in I.amhcih Palace. 

Enter Cranmer, l. 1 e. 

Cranmer. To Strasburg, Antwerp, Frankfort, Zurich, Worms, 
Geneva, Basle — our Bishops from their sees 
Or fled, they say, or flying — " Poinet, Barlow, 
" Bale, Scory, Coverdale ; besides the Deans 
" Of Christchurch, Durham, Exeter, and Wells — 
" Ailmer and Bullingham, and hundreds more; 
" So they report : " I shall be left alone. 
No; Hooper, Ridley, Latimer will not fly. 

Enter Peter Martyr, hurriedly, R. 1 e. 

Peter. Flj', Cranmer! were there nothing else, your name 

Stands first of tliose who sigu'd the Letters Patent 

That gave her royal crown to Lady Jane. 
Ckan. Stand first it may, but it was written last : 

Those that are now her Privy Council sign'd 

Before me : nay, the Judges had pronounced 

Tiiat our young Edward might bequeath the crown 

Of England, putting by his father's will. 

Yet I stood out, till Edward sent for me. 

" The wan boy-king, with his fast-fading eyes 

" Fixt hard on mine, his frail transparent hand, 

" Damp with the sweat of death, and griping mine, 

" AVhisper'd me, if I loved him, not to yield 

" His Church of England to the Papal wolf 
• " And Mary ; then I could no more — I sign'd." 

Nay, for bare shame of inconsistency, 

She cannot pass her traitor council by, 

To make me headless. 
Peter, [excitedly). " That might be forgiven." 

I tell you, fly, my Lord. "You do not own 

" The bodily presence in the Eucharist, 



^2 QUEKN MAUr. [ACI I. 

" Their wafer and perpetunl sacrifice : " 
Your creed will be your death. 
Cran. " Step after step, 

" Thro' many voices crj'iug right and left, 
" Have I climb'd back into the primal church, 
" And stand within the porch, and Christ with me : " 
My flight were such a scandal to the faith, 
The downfall of so many simple souls, 
I dare not leave my post. 
Peter. But you divorced 

Queen Catharine and her father ; hence, ller hate 
Will burn till you are buni'd. 
CitAN. I cannoi help it. 

Tlie Canonists and Schoolmen were with me. 
" Thou shalt not wed thy brother's wife." — 'Tis written, 
" Thoy shall be cliiklless." True, Mary was born, 
But France would not accept her for a bride 
As being born from incest ; " and this wrouglit 
" Upon the king : and child by child, you know, 
" Were momentary sparkles, out as quick 
" Almost as kindled ; and he brought his doubts 
" And fears to me. Peter, I'll swear for him, 
" He did believe the bond incestuous." 
But wherefore am I tienching on the time 
That should already have seen your steps a mile 
From me and Lambeth 1* God be with you ! Go, 

" Peter Martyr. Ah, how fierce a letter you wrote against 
" Their superstition when they slander'd you 
" For setting up a mass at Canterbury '?f 
" To please the Queen. 

" Cranmer. It was a wheedling monk 

"Set up the mass. 

'• Peter. I know it, my good Lord. 

" But you so bubbled over with hot terms 
" Of Satan, liars, blasphemy. Antichrist, 
" She never wdl forgive you. Fly, my Lord, fly I 
" Cran. I wrote it, and God grant me power to burn 1" 
Peter. They have given me a safe conduct : for all that 
I dare not stay. I fear, I fear, I see you, 
Dear friend, for the last time ; farewell, and fly ! 
Cran. Fly, and farewell, and let me die the death ! 

[Exit Peteis Martyr, r. 1 e. 

Enter Old Servant, l. 1 e. 

Old Servant, 0, kind and gentle master, the Queen's oflScers 

Are here in force to take you to the Tower. 
Cran. {with calm dignity). Ay, gentle friend, admit them. I will go. 

i thank my God it is too late to fly. \Exeimt, l. 1 e. 

« 

* A place on the south bank of the river Thames, now forming a large portion 
of London, but at the peiiod of tlie dia:aa open country, where stood, and still 
stands, a large antique building, known as Lambeth Palace, being the metropoli- 
tan residence of the primate of the English church. 

t A city in the County of Kent, some miles from London, celebrated for an an- 
cient and very mapniticent catiiedral. — Prom this city, the primate of the English 
church derives bis title, being termed Archbishop of Canterbury. 



1.] QUKKIf MAlir. 23 



SCENE III. — SI. Pmd's Cro.is, London. A croivcl of CrTiZEXS discovered 
scattered oiH'r the stage — De Noaillks and Rogek in tite front, ii. — • 
FiKST, SucoND, rt«(^ TiiiiiD CiTiZRNS and Gospeller in the front, l. 
Fatheu Boukne in the pulpit and near him, r., the Marchioness op 
Exeter, ««'? CouRTEXAY tvilh attendmits. As the scene opens much 
murmuring is going on amongst the croivd. 

Noailles {drawing Roger aside, v..). Hast thou let fall those papers 
in the palace 1 

Roger. Ay, sir. 

NoAiL. {showing slips of paper). " There will be no peace for Mary till 
Elizabeth lose her head." 

RoG. Ay, sir. 

NoAiL. {shotcing others). And the otiier. "Long live Elizabeth, the 
Queen." 

RoG. Av, sir ; she needs must tread upon them. 

NoAiL. ' Well. 

These beastly swine make such a grunting here, 
I cannot catch what father Bourne is saying. 

RoG. Quiet a moment, my masters ; " hear what the shaveling has 
to say for himself." 

Crowd. Hush — hear. 

Bourne. — and so this unhappy land, long divided in itself, and sev- 
eral from the faith, will return into the one true fold, seeing that our 
gracious Virgin Queen liatli — {murmurs amongst the crowd, which makes 
Bourne's address heard only in broken sentences.) 

"Ckowd. No pope ! no pope ! 

" RoG. {to those about him, mimiclcing Bourne). — hath seat for tlie 
" holy legate of the holy father the Pope, Cardinal Pole, to give us all 
" that holy absolution which 

" First Cit. Old Bourne to the life ! 

" Second Cit. Holy absolution ! holy Inquisition ! 

" Third Cit. Down with the Papist, {hubbub.) 

"BooRNE." — and now that your good bishop, Bonner, who hath 
Jain so long under bonds for the faith — hubbub.) 

NoAiL. {drawing aside). Friend Roger, steal tiiou in among the crowd 
And get tiie swine to shout Eliz:;beth. 
Yon gray old Gospeller,* sour as midwinter. 
Begin with him. 

RoG. {ei-osses, -L.) By the mass, old friend, we'll have no pope here 
while the Lady Elizabeth lives. 

Gospeller (l.). Art thou of the true faith, fellow, that swearest by 
the mass ? 

RoG. Ay, that am I, new converted, but tlie old leaven sticks to my 
tongue yet. 

First Cit. He w^ys right ; by the mass we'll have no mass here. 

Voices of the Crowd. Peace ! hear him ; " let his own words damn 
' the Papist. 
•' From thine own mouth I judge thee — tear him down." 

Bourn R. — and since our gracious Queen, let me call her our second 
Virgin Mary, hath begun to re-edify the true temple 

First Cit. " Virgin Mary I" we'll have no virgins here — we'll have 
the Lady Elizabeth ! {swords are drawn, a knife is hurled, and sticks in 
the pulpit. The mob throng to the pulpit stairs.) 

'■■'■ A preacher or folkjtver of tho Gospel. 



24 GUEEN MART. [aCT '. 

Marchioness of Exeter (r. 2 e.). Sou Courtenay, wilb thou see tne 
holy father 
IVIurder'd before thy face ? up, son, and save him I 
Tliey love thee, and thou canst not come to harm. 
CoCRTENAY {^advancing, and ascending the pulpil). Shame, shame, my 
masters ! are you Enghsh-born, 
And set yourselves by hundreds against one 7 
CuowD. A Courtenay I a Courtenay ! {a train of Spanish Servants 
crosses at the hack of the stage, L. U. E., to r. u. E.) 

NoAiL. These birds of passage come before their time ; 

Slave off the crowd upon the Si)auiard there. 
Roo. (lo the crowd). My masters, yonder's fatter game for you 
Than this old gaping gurgoyle; look you there — 
The Prince of Spain coming to wed our Queen! 
After him, hoys, and pelt him fioni the city ! {they seize sionr$ 
andfolloiv th3 Spaniards off, r. u. e.) 
\The Marchioness of Exeter and Attendants exeunt^ l. 2 e. 
NoAiL. {to Roger). Stand from me. If Elizabeth lose her head — 
That makes for France. 
And if her people, anger'd thereupon. 
Arise against her and dethrone the Queen — 
That makes for France. 
And if I breed confusion anyway — 
That makes for Franco. {Gomw^v.^ Pl\ descends from the pulpit and 

advances) Good-day, my Lord Oi Devon; 
A bold heart yours to beard that raging mob. (Roger retires 
up the stage.) 
Court. " My mother said, Go up ; and up I went." 
I knew they would not do mo any wrong, 
For I am mighty popular with them, Noailles. 
NoAiL. (artfuUij). You look'd a king. 

Court. Why not ? I am king's blood. 

" NoAiL. And in the whirl of change may come to be one. 
" Court. Ah ! 

" NoAiL. But does your gracious Queen entreat you king like 1 

" Court. 'Fore God, I think she entreats me like a child." 
NoAiL. You've but a dull life iu this maiden court, 

I fear, my Lord. 
Court. A life of nods and yawns. 

NoAiL. So you would honor my poor house to-night. 
We might enliven you. Divers honest fellows, 
The Duke of Suffolk lately freed from prison, 
Sir Peter Carew and Sir Thomas Wyatt, 
Sir Thomas Stafford, and some more — we play. 
Court. At what 7 
NoAiL. The game of chess. 
Court. The game of chess ! 

I can play well, and I shall beat you there. 
NoAiL. Ay, but we play with Henry, King of France, 
And certain of his court. 

" His Highness makes his moves across the channel, 
" We answer him with ours, and there are messengers 
" That go between ns." 
Court. Why, such a game, sir, were whole years a playing. 
NoAiL. Nay ; not so long I trust. That all depends 

Upon the skill and swiftness of the players. 
Court. The king is skillful at it 1 



ACT I.] QUIOEN MART. 25 

NoAiL. Verj-, my Lord. 

CouKT. And tlic stakes ]ii;ih ? 

NoAiL. But noL beyond your means. 

CoDRT. Well, I'm the first of players. 1 shall win. 
NoAiL. With our advice and in our company, 

And so you well attend to the king's moves, 
I think you may. 
Court. When do you meet ? 

NoAiL. To-night. 

Court. I will be there ; (aside) the fellow's at liis tricks — 

Deep — 1 shall hilhoni him. {aloud) Good morning, Noailles. 
NoAiii. Good day, my Lord, {exit Courten'Ay, l. 1 e.) " Strange 
game of chess ! a King 

" That witli her own pawns plays against a Queen, 

" Whose play is all to find herself a King. 

" Ah ; but this fine blue-blooded Courtenay seems 

" Too princely for a imwu. Call him a Knight, 

" That, with an ass's not a horse's head, 

" Skips every way, from levity or from fear." 

Well, we shall use him somehow, so that Gardiner 

And Simon Renard spy not out our game 

Too early. (Rogior advances) Roger, thiukest thou that any one 

Suspected thee to he my man 1 
RoG. Not one, sir. 

NoAiL. No ! tlie disguise was perfect. Let's away ! [Uxcmit, r. 1 e. 

SCENE IV. — Lot/don. A room in Ihe palace. 

Elizabeth enters, r. 2 k., slowly and mecUtatinal/, pausing near the entrance. 
Enter Coui'ten ay, l. 1 e. 

Court. So yet am I, 

Unless my friends and mirrors lie to me, 

A goodlier-looking fellow than this Philip. 

" Pah ! 

" The Queen is ill-advised : shall I turn traitor ? 

" They've almost talk'd me into it : yet the word 

■'' Affriuhts me somewhat ; to be such a one 

" As Harry Bolinabroke hath a lure in it." 

Good now, my Lady Queen, tlio' by your age, 

And by your looks, you are not worth the having, 
- Yet by your crown you are. {seeing Elizabeth) The Princess 
t'.iere % 

If I tried her and la — she's amorous. 

" Have we not heard of her in Edward's time, 

" Her freaks and frolics with the lale Lord Admiral 1 " 

I do believe slie'd yield. I should be still 

A party in the state ; and then, who knows 

Elizabeth {ndvancinri to r. c). What are you musing on, my Lord of 
Devon \ 

Court, (l, c). Has not the Queen 

Eliz. {sharply). Done what, sir 1 

Court. Made you follow 

The Ladv Suli'o'k and the Lady Lennox. 

"You, 

' T!;o \:'Ax ],• !■. uiii;i!ivo. 



26 QUEEN MAKY. [aCI' I. 

" Eliz. Why do you ask 1 you knov/ it. 

" Court." You needs must bear it hardly. 

Eliz. No, indeed! 

I am utterly submissive to the Queen. 
CouHT. Well, I was nnisinr; upon that; the Queen 

Is both my foe and yours : we should bo friends. 
Eliz. My Lord, the hatred of another to us 

Is no true boud of fiieudship. 
Court. Might it not 

Be the rough preface of some closer bond 1 
Eliz. My Lord, you late were loosed from out the Tovirer, 

Where, like a butterfly in a chrysalis, 

You spent your life ; ihat broken, out you flutter 

Thro' the new world, go zigzag, now would settle 

Upon this flower, now that ; but all things here 

At court are known ; you have solicited 

The Queen, and been rejected. 
Court. Flower, she ! 

Half faded ! but you, cousin, are fresh and sweet 

As the first flower no bee has ever tried. 
Eliz. Are you the bee to try me 1 why, but now 

I called you butterfly. 
Court. You did me wrong ; 

I love not to be called a butterfly : 

Why do you call me butterfly 1 
Eliz. Why do you go so gay then 1 
Court. Velvet and gold. 

This dress was made me as the Earl of Devon 

To take toy seat in ; looks it not right royal 1 
Eliz. [sarcasticaUy). So royal that the Queen forbade you wearing iu* 
Court. I wear it, then to spite her. 
Eliz. My Lord, my Lord ; 

I see you in the Tower again. Her Majesty 

Hears you afifect the i>rince — prelates kneel to you. 
" Court. I am tlie noblest blood in Europe, madam, 

" A Courtenay of Devon, and her cousin. 
" Eliz." She heais j'ou make your boast that after all 

She means to wed you. Folly, my good Lord. 
Court. How folly ] a great party in the state 

Wills me to wed her. 
Eliz. Failing her, my Lord, 

Doth not as great a party in the state 

Will you to wed me 7 
Court. Even so, fair lady. 

Eliz. You know to flatter ladies. 
Court. . Nay, I meant 

True matters of the heart. 
Eliz. My heart, my Lord, 

Is no great party in the state ns yet. 
Court. Great, said you? nay, you shall be great. I love you, 

Lay my life in your hands. Can you be close 1 
Eliz. Can you, my Lord 1 
Court. Close as a miser's casket. 

Listen : 



* This is an allusion to the fact that he liad been sent to the Tower by the Q«een, 
but afterwards pardoned. 



ACT I.] 



QUEEN MAKY. 27 



The King of Fiance, Noailles tlie Ambassador, 

The Duke of Suffolk, and Sir Peter Carew, 

Sir Thomas Wyatt, I myself, some others. 

Have sworn this Spanish marriage shall not be. 

If Mary will not iiear us — well — conjecture- 
Were I in Devon with my wedded bride, 

Tiie people there so worship me — Your ear ; 

You shall be Queen. 
Eliz. {with meaniufj). You speak too low, my Lord ; 

I cannot hear you. 
Court. I'll repeat it. 

Eliz. • No ! 

Stand farther off, or you may lose your head. 
CouitT. I have a head to lose for your sweet sake. 
Eliz. Have you, my Lord 1 Best keep it for your own. 

Nay, poul not, cousin. 

Not many friends are mine, except indeed 

Among the many. I believe you mine ; 

And so you may continue mine, farewell, 

And that at once. 

Enter Mary, c. d. — pauses, holding the curtains aside. 

Maky (aside). Wliispering — leagued together 
To bar me from my Philip. 

Court. Pray — consider 

Eliz. (seeing the Quern, speaks in a loud, laughing tone). Well, that's a 
noble horse of yours, my Lord, 
I trust that he will carry you well to-day, 
And heal your headaclie. 
Court, (with as'onishment). You are wild; what headache? 

"Heartache, perchance; not headache." 
Eliz. (aside, to Courtenay). Are you blind 1 

Couetenay sees the Queen, and exits, l. 1 e. Mary dro2>s the curtain and 

retires. 

Enter Lord William Howard, r. 1 e. 

Howard. Was that my Lord of Devon 1 " do not you 
" Be seen in corners with my Lord of Devon. 
" He hath fallen out of favor with the Queen. 
" She fears the Lords may side with you and him 
" Against her marriage ; therefore is he dangerous. 
" And" if this Prince of flulFand feather come 
To woo you, niece, ho is dangerous every way. 

Eliz. Not very dangerous (hat way, my good uncle. 

Howard. But your own state is fuli of danger here. 
The di.saffected, heretics, reformers, 
Look to you as the one to crown their ends. 
Mix not yourself witli any jtlot I pray yon ; 
Nay. if by chance you hear of any such, 
Speak not thereof — no, not to your best friend, 
Lest you sho'uld be confounded with it. " Still — 
" Perinde ac cadaver — as the priest says, 
" You know your Latin — quiet as a dead body 
" What was my Lord of Devon telling you V 

"Eliz. Whnth'^r he told nie anything or not, 



28 QUEEX MART. [aCT I. 

'■ I I'ollow your pood counsel, gracious uncle. 
'•■ Quiet as a dead body. 

" Howard. You do right well. 

" I do not care to know ; but this 1 charge you," 

Tell Courtenuy nothing. " The Lord Chancellor 

'■' (I count it as a kind of virtue in him, 

" He hath not many), as a uiastiti^dog 

" May love a puppy cur for no more reason 

" Than that the twain have been tied up together, 

'• Tims Gardiner — for tlie two were fellow-prisoners 

" So many years in yon accursed Tower — 

" Hath taken to this Courtenay." Look to it, niece, 

He hath no fence when Gardiner questions him ; 

All oozes out ; yet him — because they know him 

The last White Rose,* the last Plantanenet 

(Nay, there is Cardinal Pole, too), the people 

Claim as their natural leader — ay, some say, 

That you shall marry him. make him King belike, {they cross.) 

" Eliz. Do they say so, good uncle 1 

" Howard. Ay, good niece ! 

" You should be plain and open with me, niece. 
" You should not play upon me. 

" Eliz. No, good uncle." 

Gardiner otters, c. d., and advances. 

Gardiner (c). The Queen would see your Grace upon the moment. 

Eliz. (r. c). Why, my lord Bishop % 

Gard. (c). I think she means to counsel your withdrawing 

To Ashridge,f or some other country house. 
Eliz. Why, my lord Bishop "? 
Gard. I do but bring the message, know no more. 

" Your Grace will hear her reasons from herself." 
Eliz. 'Tis mine own wish fulfill'd before the word 

Was spoken, for in truth I had meant to crave 

Permission other Highness to retire 

To Ashridge, and pursue my studies there. 
Gard. Madam, to have the wish before the word 

Is man's good fairy — and the Queen is yours. 

I left her with rich jewels in her hand. 

Whereof 'tis like enough she means to make 

A farewell present to your Grace. 
Eliz. My Lord, 

I have the jewel of a loya! heart. 
Gaud. I doubt it not, madam, must loyal. \Bows loiv, and r.r.V,,', c. d. 
Howard (l. c). See, 

Tliis comes of parleyina with my Lord of Devon. 

Well, well, you must obey ; " and I myself 

" Believe it will be better for your welfare." 

Your time will come. 

* For m:iny years previous to this period, groat feuds had existed between rival 
brandies of the nobility of Enfrland, represented by the houses of York and Lan- 
caster: the foruier wore" as a ba^lge, or token of the cause tliey upheld, a iD/iiu. rose, 
and the latter a ml one : and the qu.arrels between these parties arc called in history 
the " Wars of the Roses." 

1 The name of a town some miles distant from London, where there was a royal 
residence. 



ACT I.] QTJEEN MAKT. 29 

E1.1Z. '■ I think my time will come. 

" Uncle," 

I am of sovereign natm'e, that I know. 

Not to be quell'd; and I have felt within me 

Stiirincrs of some great doom when God's just hour 

Peals — hut this fierce old Gardiner — " his big baldness, 

"Tiiat irritable forelock which he rubs," 

His buzzard beak and deep-incavern'd eyes 

Half fright me. 
HowAKD. You've a bold heart ; keep it so. 

lie cannot touch yon save that you turn traitor; 

'■ And so take heed 1 p;ay you — you are one 

" Who love that men should smile upon you, niece. 

" 'L'hey'd smile you into treason — some of them. 
Eliz. ' I spy the rock beneath the smiling sea." 

But if this Piiilip, the proud Catholic prince, 

And this bahl priest, and she that hates me, seek 

In that lone house, to practise on m^' life, 

By poison, (ire, sliot, stab 

HowAUD. They will not, niece. 

Mine is the fleet and all the power at sea — 

Or will be in a moment. If they dared 
' To harm you, I would blow this Philip and all 

Your trouble 10 the doastar and the devil. 
Eliz. To the Pleiades, uncle ; they have lost a sister. 
Howard. But why sa that 1 wliat have you done to lose her 1 

Come, come, I will go with you to the Queen. [Exeunt, c. d. 

SCENE V. — A room in the Palace. 

Mary is discovered seate-.l at the right hand of the table, 11., gazing upon n 
richly jewelled miniature ; Alice is standing behind on Iter left. 

Mauy (kissing the miniature). JMost goodly, kinglike, and an emperor'n 
son — 

A king to be — is he not noble, girl ? 
Alice. Goodly enough, your Grace, and yet, methinks, 

I have seen goodlier. 
Mary. Ay ; some waxen doll 

Thy baby eyes have rested on, belike ; 

All red and wliite, the fashion of our land. 

But my good mother came (God rest her soul) 

Of Spain, aiul I am Spanish in myself. 

And in my Ulvings. [after a pame changing the conversation.) 
" Alici';. By your Grace's leave, 

" Your royal mother came of Spain, but took 

" To the English red and wliite. Your royal father 

'• (For so they say) was all pure lily and rose 

" In his youth, and like a lady. 
" Mary. 0, just God ! 

'■ Sweet mother, yon had lime and cause enough 

" To sicken of his hltf^s and Ins roses. 

"Cast off", betray d, defameil, divorced, forlorn ! 

" And then the king — that traitor past forgiveness, 

" The false archbishop fawning on him, married 

" The mother ot Eliz,iheth — a heretic, 

" E'en as she is; but God hatii sent me here 



30 QUEEN MAUY. [,VCT I. 

" To take such order with all heretics 

" That it sl)all be, before I die, as tho' 

" My father and luy brother had not Hved." 

^Vliat wast thou saying of tliis Lady Jane, 

Now iu the Tower 1 
Alice. Wiiy, madam, she was passing 

Some chapel down in Essex,* and with her 

Lady Anne Wiiarton, and tlie Lady Anne 

Bow'd to the Pyx ;t but Lady Jane stood up 

Stiff as the very baclibone of heresy. 

And wherefore bow j'e not. says Lady Anne, 

To hiiu within tiiere who made heaven and earth 1 

I cannot and I dare not, tell your Grace 

What Lady Jane replied. 
Mauy. Bat I will have it. 
Alice. She said— pray pardon me, and pity her — 

She hath hearken'd evil counsel — ah ! she said, 

The baker made hiin. 
Maky. {starting up in coujcr). Monstrous! blasphemous! 

She ought to burn. Hence, thou. (Alice cmirteseys loic anil 
backing out, cxitu l. 3 e. Maky advances, c.) No — being 
traitor 

Her head will fall : shall it? she is but a child. 

We do not kill the child for doing that 

His father whipt bin) into doing — a head 

So ruii of grace and beauty ! would that mine 

We: e half as "racious ! 0, my lord to be, 

My love, for thy sake only. 

I am eleven years older than he is. 

Bui will he care for that 1 

" No, by the ho'y V^irgin, being noble, 

" But love me only : then the bastard sprout," 

My sister, is far fairer thin myself. 

Will he be drawn to her 1 

" No, being of the true faith with myself. 

" Paget is for him — for to wed with Spain 

" Would treble England " — Gardiner is against him ; 

The Council, people, Parliament against hitn ; 

But I will have him ! " My hard father hated me ; 

" My brother rather hated me than loved ; 

" My sister cowers and hates me. Holy Virgin, 

" Plead with thy blessed son ; grant mo my prayer ; 

" Give me my Philip ; and " we two will Ipad 

The living waters of the Faith asrain 

Back thro' their widow'd channel here, and watch 

The parch'd banks rolling incense, as of old, 

To heaven, " and kindled with the palms of Christ ! 

Enter Ushek, c. d. 

Wlio waits, sir? [turning round sharplg.) 
TTsHEit. Madam, the Lord Chancellor. 

Mary. Bid him coaie in. [Exit Ushek. 

■•' One of ilii) counties of Eiifrhind joining on to tho County of Mi.ldlesex in which 
the I ity of Loudon is situ.ated. 

t A little bos or chest in which the consecrated host is kept in the Roman Catholic 
Church. 



ACT I.] ftUI'.EN MART. HI 

Elder Gardiner, c. d. 
«» 

Good-ni(>i7ii;i2, my good Lord. 
Gard. {lowing low and advancing with liumiit.y). That every morning 
of your majesty 
JMay be most good, is every moriiins's prayer 

Of your most loyal subject, Steplien Gardiner. 
Mary {sarcastically). Come you to tell me this, my Lord? 
Gard. And more. 

Your people liave begun to learn your worth. 

Your pious wisli to pay Kins Edward's debts, 

Your lavisli household curb'd, and the remission 

Of half that subsidy levied on the jieople. 

Make all tongues praise and all hearts beat for you. 

I'd hive you yet more loved ; tiie realm is poor. 

The exchequer at neap-ebb ; we might withdraw 

Part of our garrison at Calais. 
Mary. Calais !* 

Our one point on the main, the gate of France ! 

I am Queen of England ; take mine eyes, mine heart, 

But do not lose me Calais. 
Gard. Do not fear it. 

Of that hereafter. I say your Grace is loved. 

That I may keep you thus, wlio am ynur friend 

And ever faithful counsellor, might I sjjeak 1 
Mauy 1 can forespeak your speaking. Would I marry 

Prince Philip, if all England hate him 1 That is 

Your question, and I front it with another: 

Is it England, or a party 1 Now, your answer. 
Gard. My answer is, I wear beneath my dress 

A shirt of mail ; {opens his robes and shoivs it) my house hath 
been assaulted, 

And when I walk abroad, the populace, 

With fingers pointed like so many daggers, 

Stab me in fancy, hissing Spain and Philip ; 

" And when I sleep, a hundred men-at-arms 

" Guard my poor dreams for England." Men would murder 
me. 

Because they think me favorer of this marriage. 
Mary. And that were hard upon you, my Lord Chancellor 

Gard. But our young Earl of Devon 

Mary. Earl of Devon 1 

I freed him from the Tower, placed him at court ; 

1 made him Earl of Devon, and — the fool — 

He wrecks his health and wealth on courtesans, 

And rolls himself in carrion like a dog. 
" Gard More like a school-boy that hath broken bounds, 

" Sickening himself with sweets. 
" Maby." I will not hear of him. 

Good, then, they will revolt; but I am Tudor, 

And shall control them. 
Gard. I will help you. Madam, 

Even to the utmost. " All the church is grateful. 

* A town on the coast of Prance on the opposite side of the English Channel to 
the English seajwrt, Dover, from which it is distant atjout twenty-two miles. En- 
gland once held many possessions in France, but they Iii\d by deirees been wrested 
Ijrom her, and this and Guisnes were the only places iemninirg: in her possession. 



J2 QUEEN MAKY. [aCI I. 

" You have ousted the mock priest, repulpited 

" Tlie Slie|)lierd of St. Peter, raised the rood again, 

" And brought us back the mass." I am all thanks 

To God and to your Grace ; yet I know well, 

Your people, and 1 go with them so far, 

Will brook nor Pope nor Spaniard here to play 

The tyraiit,or in commonwealth or church. 
Mary {shotvii/f/ the miniature). Is this the face of one who plays the 
tyrant? 
' Peruse it ; is it not goodly, ay, and gentle 1" 
Gard. Madam, methinks a cold face and a haughty. 

And when your Highness talks of Courtenay — 

Ay, true — a goodly one. {aside) I would his life 

Were half as goodly. 
Mary. What is that you mutter ? 

Gakd, Oh, Madam, take it bluntly ; marry Philip, 

And be stepmother* of a score of sons ! 

Tiie prince is known in Spain, in Flanders, ha ! 

For Philip 

Mary. You ofiTend us ; you may leave us. 

"You see thro' warping glasses. 
"Gard. If your Majesty — - 

" Mary. I have sworn upon the body and blood of Christ " 

I'll none but Philip. 
Gard. Hath your Grace so sworn ? 

Mary. Ay, Simon Renard knows it. 
Gard. News to me! 

It then remains for your poor Gardiner, 

So you still care to trust him somewhat less 

Than Simon Renard, to compose the event 

In some such form as least may harm your Grace. 
Mary. I'll have the scandal sounded to the mud. 

( passionately) I know it a scandal. 
Gakd. All my hope is now 

It may be found a scandal. 
Mary (avgrily). You offend us. 

Gard. {aside). These princes are like children, must be physick'd. 

The bitter in the sweet. I have lost mine office. 

It may be, thro' mine honesty, like a fool, {boxes loiv.) 

[Exit, CD. 

Enter Usuer, c. d. 
Mary. Who waits ? 

Usher. The Ambassador fi-om France, your Grace. 

Mary. Bid hira come in. [Exit Ushku ; Mary sits on riylit of table, r. 

NoAiLLES enters, c. d., boivs low; and advances. 

Good mornnig. Sir de Noailles. 
NoAiLLES. A happy morning to your Majesty. 
Mary. And I should some time have a happy morning; 

I have had nore yet. What says the King, your master'? 
NoAiL. Madam, my raaster hears with much alarm, 

That you may marry Philip, Prince of Spain — 

Foreseeing, with whate'er unwillingness, 



* This is an allusion to the rumors win"'. Ii .;1 bern started tliat Philip led a verj 
dissipated lite, and many ot hisolfspiiDg ui le in existence on the continent. 



lCT I.] QTJEEN MART. 33 

That if this Pliilip be the titular kina 

Of England, and at war with him, your Grace 

And kingdom will he suck'd into tlie war, 

Ay, tlio' you long for i)eace ; wherefore, my master, 

If Imt to prove your Majesty's good will. 

Would fain have some fresh treaty drawn between you. 
Makv. Why some fresh tieaty V wherefore should I do iti 

Sir, if we many, we shall still maintain 

All foiuier treaties with his jNIajesty. 

Our royal word for that! and your good master, 

Pray God he do not be the fiist to break tliem, 

MuU be content with that; and so, farewell. 
NoAiL. (bows loiv inid is (jo'ng hut returns). I would your answer had 
been other, Madam, 

For I foresee dark days. 
Maky. And so do I, sir; 

Your master works against me in the dark. 

I do believe he holp Northumberland 

Ayainst me. 
NoAiL. Nay, pure fantasy, your Grace. 

Why should lie move against you1 
I\Iary. Will you hear why 1 

Mary of Scotland, — for I have not own'd 

My sister, and 1 will not, — after me 

Is heir to England; and my royal father. 

To make the crown of Scotland one with ours. 

Had maik'd her for my brother Edward's bride ; 

Ay, but your king stole her a babe from Scotland 

In order to betroth her to your Dauphin. 

See then : 

Mary of Scotland, married to your Dauphin, 

Would make our Enaland, Fiance ; 

Mary of England, joining hands with Spain, 

Wouhl be too strong lor France. 

Yea, were there issue born to her, Spain and we, 

One crown, might rule the world. There lies your fear. 

That is your drift. You play hide and seek. 

" Show me your faces ! " 
NoAiL. Madam, I am amazed : 

French, I must needs wish all good things for Fi'ance. 

That must be pardon'd me; but I protest 

Your Grace's policy hath a farther flight 

Than mine into the future. " We but seek 

" Some settled ground for peace to stand upon." 
Mary. Well, we will leave all this, sir, to our council. 

Have you seen Philip ever ? 
NoAiii. Only once. 

Maky {rising and advancing to r. c, and showing miniature'). Is this 

like Philip ? 
NoAiL. {advancing, l. c). Ay, but nobler looking. 
Mary. Hath he the large ability of the Emperor? 
NoAiL. No, surely. 
Mary. I can make allowance for thee, 

Thou speakest of the enemy of thy king. 
NoAiii. Make no allowance for the naked truth. 

He is every way a lesser man than Charles ; 

Stone-hard, ice-cold — no dash of daring in him. 



34 QUEKN MAUY. [ ACT I. 

Mary. If cold, his life is pure. 

No.jL. Why, {smiling) no, indeed. 

JIaky {eagerly). Saystthou? 

NoAiL. A very wanton life indeed, [smiling.) 

Mauy {angrily). Your audience is concluded, sir. 

[Noaii,le;s boivs and exits, c. D. 
You cannot 
Learn a man's nature from his natural foe. 

Enter Usher, c. d. 
Who waits'? 
Usher. The Ambassador of Spain, your Grace. (Mary 

leaves her hand to signify admission.) [Exit Ushek, c. d. 

Enter Simon Renaud, c. d., he bows very low and advances. MAuy ad- 
vances to meet him, offers her hand, on tuhich he kneels and kisses i', then 
rising, they advance, 

Mary. Thou art welcome, Simon Renard. Hast tliou 

Broui^lit me the letter which thine Emperor promised 
Loiinr since, a formal offer of the hand 
Of Philip? 

Renakd. Nay, your Grace, it hath not reach'd me. 

I know not wherefore — "some mischance of flood, 
" And broken bridire, or spavin'd horse, or wave 
"And wind at their old battle ; he must have written." 

Mauy {pettishly). But Philip never writes me one poor word, 
Which in his absence had been all my wealth. 
Strange in a wooer ! 

Ren. Yet I know the Prince, 

So your king Parliament suffer him to land, 
Yearn'i to set foot upon your island shore. 

Mary. God change the pebble which his kingly foot 
First presses, into some more costly stone 
Than ever blinded eye. "I'll have one mark it 
" And bring it me. Ill have it burnish'd firelike ; 
" I'll set it round with gold, with pearl, with diamond, 
" Let the great angel of the church come with him ; 
" Stand on the deck and spread his wings for sail ! 
"God lay the waves and strew the storms at sea, 
" And here at land among the people." Renard, 
I am much beset, I am almost in despair. 
Paget is ours. Gardiner ])erchance is ours ; 
But for our heretic Parliament — 

Ren. Madam, 

You fly your thoughts like kites. My master, Charles, 

Bade you go softly with your heretics here, 

Un'tii your throne had ceased to tremble. Then 

Spit them like larks for aught I care. " Besides, 

" When Henry broke the carca.ss of your church 

" To pieces, there were many wolves among you 

" Who diagg'd the scatter'd limbs into their den. 

" The Pope would have you make them render these ; 

" So would your cousin, Cardinal Pole; ill counsel! 

" These let thetii keep at present ; stir not yet 

" This matter of the church lands. At his coming " 

Your siar will rise. 



ACT I.] QUEKN MAKY. 35 

Mauy {in a nielanchol;/ tons). My star ! a b.aleful o:ie. 

1 see bill the black nigbt, and bear Llie wult. {aflcr a pause) 

" What, bLar? 
" Ren. * Your star will be your princely son, 

■' Heir of this England and the Netherlands 1 

'• And if your wolf the while should howl for more, 

" We'll dust him from a bag of Spanish gold. 

" I do believe, I have dusted some already, 

" That, soon or late, your Parliament is ours. 
" Mary." Why do th§^' talk so foully of your prhice, 

Renard ? 
Ren. The lot of princes. To sit high 

Is to be lied about. 
Mary. They call him cold, 

Haughty, ay, worse. 
Ren. Why, doubtless, Phihp shows 

S.)me of the bearing of your blue blood — still 

All within measure — nay, it \v^\\ b^comes him. 
Mary. Hath he the large ability of his father"? 
RiiN. Nay, some believe that he will go beyond him. 
Mary {showing miniature). Is this like him 'i 
Ren. Ay, somewhat; {artfully) but your Philip 

Is the most pvincelike Prince beneath the sun. 

This is a daub to Pliilip. 
Mary. Of a pure life 1 

Ren. As an angel among angels. " Yea, by Heaven, 

" The text — your Highness knows it, " Whosoever 

" Looketli after a woman," would not graze 

" The Prince of Spain. You are happy in him there, 

" Chaste as your grace." 
Mary [pleased). I am happy in him there. 

Ren. {cunninghj). And would be altogether happy, Madam, 

So that your sister were but look'd to closer. 

Yoti have sent her from the court, but then she goes, 

I warrant, not to hear the nightingales, 

But hatch you some new treason in the woods. 
Mary. We have otir spies abroad to catch her tripping, 

And then if caught, to the Tower. 
Ren. The Tower ! the block ! 

The word has turn'd your Highness pale; the thing 

Was no such scarecrow in your father's time. 

I have heard, the longue yet quiver'd with the jest 

When the head leapt — so common ! I do think 

To save your crown that it must come to this. 
Maky. I love her not, but all th^ people love her, 

And would not liave her even of the Tower. 
" Ren. Not yet ; but your old Traitors to the Tower — 

'• Why, when you put Northumberland to death, 

" The sentence having past upon them all, 

" Spared you the DuUe of Suffolk, Guildford Dudley. 

" E'en that young girl who dared to we:ir your crown ? 
"Mary. Dared! no, not that; the child obey'd her father. 

" Spite of her tears her father forced it on her." 
Ren. Good Madam, when the Roman wish'd to reign, 

He slew not him alone who wore the purple, 

But his assessor in the throne, " perchance 

" A child more innocent than Lady Jane." 



36 UUEEX MAliT. [act I. 

Maky. I am English Queen, not Roman Emperor. 

Ren. Yet too much mercy is a want of mercy, 

And wastes more life. S'.amp out the fire, or Ihis 
Will smoulder and re-flanie, and burn the throne 
Wliere you should sit with Philip : he will not come 
Till she be gone. 

Maky. Indeed, if that were true— {hesitating) 

But I must say farewell. I am somewhat faint 
Witli our long talk. Tho' Queen, I am not queen 
Of mine own heart, which every now and then 
Beats me half dead : yet ^ay, this golden chain — {removing it 

from her neck) * 

My father on a birthday gave it me, 
And I have broken with my father — take. 
And wear it as memorial of a morning 
Wliich found me full of foolish doubts, and leaves me 
As hopeful. 

Ren. {aside). Whew — the folly of all follies 

Is to be love-sick for a shadow, {aloud) Madam, 

This chains me to your service, not with gold, 

But dearest links of love. Farewell, and trust me, 

Philip is yours. [Kneels, kisses her hand, rises, and exits, c. d. 

Mary {despondingly). Mine — but not yet all mine. 

Enter Ushku, c. d. 

Usher. Your Council is in session, please your Majesty. 

Mary. Sir, let them sit. I must have time to breathe. 

No, say I come, {exit Usher) I won by boldness once. 

The Emperor counsell'd me to fly to Flanders. 

I would not ; but a hundred miles I rode. 

Sent out my letters, call'd my friends together, 

Struck home and won. 

And when the Council would not crown me — thought 

To bind me first by oaths I could not keep. 

And keep with Christ and conscience — was it boldness 

Or weakness that won there 1 when I, their Queen, 

Cast myself down upon my knees before them. 

And those hard men brake into woman tears, 

E'en Gardiner, all amazed, and in that passion 

Gave me my crown. 

Be-enter Alice, 

(ivalking to her, sharplg) Girl ! hast thou ever heard 

Slanders against Prince Pliilip in our Court"? 
Alice {confused). What slanders 1 I, your Grace ] no, never. 
Mary {eagerly). Nothing 1 

Alice Never, your Grace. 

Mary {sternly). See that you neither hear them nor repeat ! {crosses to r.) 
Alice {aside). Good Lord ! but 1 have heard a thousand such. 

Ay, and repeated them as often — mum ! 

Re-enter Renard, c. d., ivith letter. 
Why comes that old fox-Fleming back again"? 



-ACT I.] QUEEN MARY. 37 

Rex. {bowing and advancitig). Madam, I scarce had left your Grace's 
presence 

Before 1 chanced upon the messenger 

Who brings that, letter which we waited for — 

The formal offer of Prince Philip's hand. 

It craves an instant answer, Ay or No ] 
AlAr.Y {fagerly). An instant, Ay or No ! The Council sits. 

Give it me quick, (snolckes it from him.) 
Alice {stepping befure her), i'our Highness is all trembling. 
Mary {pushing her aside). Make way. [Exits, c. d. 

Alice (l c). 6, Master Renard, Master Renard, 

If you have falsely painted your fine Prince — 

Praised where you should have blamed him, I pray God 

No woman ovi>r love you, Master Renard. 

" It breaks my heart to hear her moan at night 

" As tho' the nightmare never left her bed." 
Run. (u. c ). My pret'y maiden, tell me, did you ever 

Sigh for a" beard 1 
Alice. That's not a pretty question. 

Ren, Not prettily put 1 {taking her hand] 1 mean, my pretty maiden, 

A pretty man for such a pretty maiden. 
Alice. My Lord of Devon is a pretty man. 

I hate him. Well, but if I have, what then 1 
Ren. Then, pretty maiden, you should know that whether 

A wind be warm or cold, it serves to fan 

A kindled fire. 
Alice. According to the song. 

" His friends would praise him, I behaved 'em, 
His toes would blame liiiu, and I scorned 'em, 

His friends— as angels I received 'em, 

His foes— the devil had suborn'd 'em." 

Ren. Peace, pretty maiden, {drops her hand) 

1 hear them stirring in the Council Chamber. 
Lord Paget's " Ay " is sure — who else? and yet 
They are all too much at odds to close at once 
In one full throated No 1 Her Highness comes, {crosses l. — 
Alice to k) 

Mary enters hiirriedlg, c. d. — she staggers at thethreshold with excitement. 

Alice. How deathly pale! — a chair, your Highness, {springs forward 
and brings one from the table, r. , tvhich she places c, and aa- 
sists the Queen toioards it.) 

Ren. {eagerli/, advancing toioards her). Madam, 

The Council ? 

Mary {with trium2)h). Ay ! My Philip is all mine. 

Sinks into chair, half fainting, Alice drops on her knees, R., clasping the 
Queen's arm, Renard, l. c, ivith a calm, sardonic smile, folds his 
arms and stands erect. 



38 QUKEN MARY. [.VCT II. 

^CT ir. 

SCENE l.—AllinfftoH Castle. 

Sir Thomas Wyatt enters, l. 1 e. 

Wtatt. I do not hear from Carew or tlie Duke 

Of Suffolk, and till then I should not move. 
The Duke halh gone to Leicester;* Carew stirs 
In D<3von ;f that fine porcelain Couilonny, 
Save that he fears he might be craek'd in using 
(I have known a semi-madman in mj' time 
So fancy ridd'n), should be in Devon too. 

Enter William, e. 1. e. 

News abroad, William 1 {bells are heard ringing in the distance ) 
William. None so new, Sir Thomas, and none so old, Sir Tiiomas. 
No new news that Philip comes to wed Mary, no old news that all men 
hate it,. Old Sir Thomas would have hated it The bells are ringing at 
Maidstone.:): Doesn't your worship hear ] 

Wf ATT. Ay, for the saints are come to reign again. 
Most like it is a saint's-day. There's no call 
As yet for me ; so in this pause, before 
The mine be fired, it were a pious work 
To string my father's sonnets, left about 
Like loosely-scatter'd Jewels, in fair order. 
And iiead them with a lamer rhyme of mine, 
To grace his memory. 
WiL Ay, why not. Sir Thomas ? He was a fine courtier, he ; Queen 
Anno'J loved him. All the women loved him. I loved him, I was in 
Spain with him. I couldn't eat in Spain, I couldn't sleep in Spain. I 
hate Spain, Sir Thomas. 

Wyatt (sli/lg). But thou couldst drink in Spain, if I remember. 
WiL. {dryhj). Sir Thomas, we may grant the wine. Old Sir Thomas 
always granted the wine. 

Wyatt. Hand me the casket with my father's sonnets. (William 
reachrs a portfolio from the book-case, and hands it to Wyatt.) 

WiL. Ay — sonnets — a fine courtier of the old court, old Sir Thomas. 

[Exit, R. 1 E. 
Wyatt. Courtier of many courts, he loved the more 

His own gray towers, plain life and letter'd peace, 
To read and rhyme in solitary fields, 
The lurk above, the nightingale below. 
And answer them in song. The sire begets 
Not half his likeness in the son. I fail 

Where he was fullest ; yet — to write it down, (lie sits al table, 
R., and writes. 

Re-enter William, hurriedly, 

WiL. There is news, there is news, and no call for sonnet-sorting now, 

* The principal town in Leicestershire, one of the counties of England. 

t An abbreviation of Devonshire, another county. 

X Tlie chief to'^vn in Kent, another county. 

§ Alluding to one of tl:e wives of King Henry the Eighth. 



ACT II,] QUKKN^ MAKY. 39 

nor for sonneUmakinst either, but ten thousjiid men on Penenden 
Healli* :i!l callins after your worship, and your worship's name heard 
into Maidstone market, and your worsiiip tlie first man in Kent and 
Cl)ristendoni, for tlie workl's up, and your worsiiip a-top of it. 
Wyatt. Inverted ^sop — mountain out of mouse. 

Say for ten thousand ten — and ])othouse knaves, 

Brain-dizzied witli a drauglit of morning ale. 

Enter Antony Knyvett, qiiicklij, l. 1 e. 

" WiL. Here's Antony Knyvett." 

Knyvett. Look you, Master Wyatt, 

Tear up tliat woman's work there. 
Wyatt (^calmlij plnclng his hand over the papers). No; not these. 

Dumb cliildren of my father, tliat will speak 

When I and thou and all rebellion lie 

Dead bodies without voice. Song tiies you know 

For a^es. 
Kny. Tut, your soimet's a flying ant, 

Wing'd for a moment. 
Wyatt. Well, for mine own work, (^rising and tearincj up the paper) 

It lies there in six pieces at your feet; 

For all that 1 can carry it in my head {advances ) 
Kny. (l. c ). If you can carry your head upon your shoulders. 
Wyatt (c). I fear you come to carry it off' my shoulders, 

And sonnet making's .^afer. 
Kny. Why, good Lord, 

Write you as many sonnets as you will 

Ay, but not now ; " what, have you eyes, ears, brains 1 

" Tliis Philip and the black-faced swarms of Spain, 

" The hardest, crudest people in the world, 

"Come locusting upon us, eat us up, 

" Confiscate lands, goods, money " — Wyatt, Wyatt, 

Wake, or the stout old island will become 
• A rotten limb of Spain. They roar for you 

On Penenden Heath, a thousand of them — moie — 

All arm'd, waiting a leader ; there's no glory 

Like his who saves his country : and you sit 

Sins-sonsing here; but, if I'm any judge. 

" My God," you are as poor a poet, Wyatt, 

As a good soldier. 
Wyatt. You as poor a critic 

As an honest friend : you stroke n>e on one cheek, 

Buffet the other. " Come, you bluster, Antony! 

" You know I know all this." I must not move 

Until I hear from C.irew and the Dnke. 

I fear the mine is fired before the time. 
Kny. {showing a piaper). But here's some Hebrew. "Faith, I half for- 
got it." 

Look ; can you make it English 1 A strange youth 

Suddenly thrust it on me, whisper'd, "Wyatt," 

And whiskins round a corner, show'd his back 

Before I read his face. 
Wyatt {taking it). Ha! Courtenay's cipher, {reads.) 

* The n:iim ot .i large common or tract of open Ian 1 used aa a meeting ground in 
the vicinity oi Ivtaidstone. 



40 QUEEN MAKSr. [aCT 11. 

" Sir Peter Carew tied to France : it is thougliL the Duke will be taken. 
I am with you still ; but, for appearance's sake, stay willi tlie Queen. 
Gardiner knows, but the Council are all at odds, and the Queen luiLh no 
force for resistance. Move, if you move, at once." (wilhencryi/, thruslinc/ 
the 2iaper in his pocket.) 

" Is Peter Carew fled 1 Is the Duke taken ? " 
Down scabbard, and out swoi'd ! and let Rebellion 
Roar till throne rock, and croun fall. No, not that; 
But we will teach Queen Mary how to reign, {shoicls at back) 
Who are those that shout below there 1 
K.NY. Why, some fifty 

That follow'd me from Penenden Heath in hope 
To hear you spsak. 
AVyATT. 0,)en the window, Kny vett ; 

The mine is fired, and I will speak to them. (Knyvett throws 

open window and the scene at the hack represents the heads and 

shoulders of a number of persons assembled. Wyatt draws 

near to the window. Murmurs and applause during the 

speech.) 

Men of Kent; England of England; "you that have kept your old 

"customs upright, while all the rest of En^^Iand bow'd theirs to the 

" Norman," the cause that hath brouoht us losether is not the cause of 

a county or a slure, but of this En^^land, in whose crown our Kent is 

the fairest jewel. Philip shall not wed Mary ; and ye have called me 

to be your leader. I know Spain. I have been tiiere with my father ; 

1 have sean them in their own land ; have marked the haughtiness of 

tlieir nobies; the cruelty of their priests. If this man marry our 

Queen, however the Council and the Commons may fence round his 

power with restriction, he will be KIoh, King of England, my masters; 

and the Queen, and the laws, and the people, his slaves. What 1 shall 

we have Spiin on the tinone and in the parliamenf- ; Spain in the i)ul- 

■pit and on the law bench ; Spain in all the groat offices of stat'^ ; Si)ain 

i 1 our ships, in our forls, in our houses, in our beds ] 

Crowd. No, no ! no Spain. 

WiL. (r., horri_fied). No Spain in our beds — that were worse than all. 
I have been there with old Sir Thomas, and the beds I know. I hate 
Spain. 

'• A Peasant. But, Sir Thomas, must we levy war against the Queen's 
Grace ? 

Wyatt. "No, my friend; war for the Queen's Grace — to save her 
" from herself and Philip — war against Spain. And " think not we shall 
be alone — thousands will flock to us. The Council, the Court itself, is 
on our side. The Lord Chancellor himself is on our side. The King of 
France " is with us ;" the King of Denmark " is with us ;" the world is 
v.ith us — war against Spain ! " And if we move not now, yet it will be 
" known that we have moved ; and if Philip come to be King, 0, my 
" God I the rope, the rack, the thumb-screw, the stake, tlie fire." If we 
move not now, Sp lin moves, bribes our nobles with her gold, and creeps, 
creei>s snake-like about our legs till we cannot move at all ; " and ye 
know, ray masters, tliat " wlierever Spain hath ruled she hath wither'd 
all beneath her. " Look at the New \\ orld — a paradise made hell ; the 
" red man, that good, helpless creature, starved, maim'd, flogg'd, flay'd, 
" burn'd, boil'd, buried alive, worried by dogs; and here, nearer home, 
"the Netherlands, Sicily, Naples, Lombardy." I say no more — "only 
" this, their lot is yours." Forward to London witli me ! forward to 
London ! If yo love your libciiio:; or your skins, forward to London 1 
Crowd. Forwar.l to London! A V/valL ! a Wvatt! 



ACT II.] QUKKN llART. 41 

Wyatt. But first to Rocliester,* to take the guns 

Froiu oat the vessels lying in the river. 

Then on. 
A Peasant. Ay but I fear we be too few, Sir Thomas. 
" Wyatt. Not many yet. Tlie world as yet, my friend, 

" Is not half waked ; but every parish tower 

" Shall clang and clash alarum as we pass, 

"And pour along the land, and swoH'n nnd fed 

" With indraughts and side currents, in lull force 

" Roll upon London." 
Crowd. A Wyatt 1 a Wyatt ! Forward! {tJie sJwuts graduallij lessen.) 
Kny. Wyatt, sliall we proclaim Elizabeth? 
Wyatt [coming forward). I'll think upon it, Knyvett. 
Kny. Or Lady Jane 1 

Wyatt. No, poor soul ; no. 

Ah, gray old caslle of Allington, green field 

Beside the brimming Medwa}', it may chance 

That I shall never look u()on \'(iu mo: o. 
Kny. Come, now, you're sonneting a^aiu. 
Wyatt. Not I. 

I'll have ray head set hi:;hcr in tha state ; 

Or — ifthe Lord God will it — an the stake. [Exeunt, l. 1 e. 

SCENE W.— Guildhall. ■\ 

Sir Tuomas Wuith {llu Lord liLiyor), Lord AVilliam Howard, Sir. 
Ralpu Bagenhall, Aldermen, and Citizens are discovm-.t. 

White (c). I trust the qusen conies hither with her guards. 
Howard (l. c). Ay, ail in arms, i^-' several of the Citizv.^?:, mors h-.is- 
tihj out of the hall. ) 

"Wliy do they hurry out there ? 
" White. Jly Lord, cut out the rotten from your apple, 

" Your apple eats the better. Let them go. 

" They go like those old Pharisees in John 

*' Convicted by their conscience, arrant cowards, 

" Or tamperers with that treason out of Kent. 

" When will her Grace be here "? 
" Howard." In some few minutej. 

She will address your guilds and companies. 

I have striven in vain to raise a man for her. 

But help her in this exigency, make 

Your city loyal, and be the mightiest man 

This day in England. 
AVniTE i^proudUj'). I am Thomas White. 

Few things have fail'd to which I set my will. 

I do my most and best. 
Howard. You know that after 

The Captain Brett, who went with your train bands 

To fight with Wyatt, had gone over to hioi 

With all his men, the Queen iu that distress 

Sent Coriuvailis and Hastings to the traitor, 

* A city in the county of Kent, situate on the banks of the Medway, a river ruQ- 
ning through the same county. 

t An ancient building in the centre of the city of London, where the mayor, alder- 
mea, and citizens transact the city business. It is still in existence. 



42 QUEEN MAKY. [aCT II. 

Feigning to treat with liim about her luarriage — 
Know too what VVyatt said. 

White. He'd sooner bo, 

While tl)is same marriage question was being argued, 
Trusted than trust — the scoundrel — and demanded 
Possession of her person and the Tower. 

Howard. And four of her poor Council, too, my Lord, 
As hostages. 

White. I know it. What do and say 

Your Council at this hour 1 

HowAUD. " I will trust you." 

We fling ourselves on you, my Lord. The Council, 
Tlie Parliament as well, are troubled waters ; 
And yet like waters of the fen ihey know not 
Which way to flow. All hangs on lier address, 
And upon you, Lord Mayor. 

White. How look'd the city 

When now you past iti Quiet? 

HowAHD. Like our Council, 

Your city is divided. As we past. 
Some hail'd, some hiss'd us. " There were citizens 
" Stood each before his shut-up booth, and look'd 
" As grim and grave as from a funeral. 
" And here a knot of ruffians all in rags, 
" Witli execrating execrable eyes, 
" Glared at the citizen. Here was a young mother, 
" Her face on flame, lier red hair all blown back, 
" She shrilling ' Wyalt," while the boy she held 
" Mimick'd and piped her " Wyalt," as red as she 
"In hair and cheek; and almost elbowing her, 
" So close they stood, another, mute as death, 
" And white as her own milk ; her babe in arms 
" Had felt the faltering of his mother's lieart, 
" And look'd as bloodless. Here a pious Catholic, 
" Mumbling and jnixing up in his scared prayers 
" Heaven and earth's Maries ; over his bowd shoulder 
" Scowl'd that world-hated and world-hating beast, 
" A haggard Anabaptist. ]\Iany such groups. 
" The names of Wyatt, Elizabeth, Courlenay, 
" Nay, the Queen's right lo reign — 'fore God, the rogues — 
" Were freely buzz'd amon; them." Si> I say 
Your city is divided, and I fear 
One scruple, this or that way, of success 
Would turn it thither. Wherefore now the Queen 
" In this low pulse and palsy of the state," 
Bade me to tell you that she counts on you. 
And on myself as her two hands ; on you. 
In your own city, as her right, my Lord, 
For you are loyal. 
White. Am I Thomas White ? 

One word before she comes. Elizabelh — 
" Her name is much abused among these traitors." 
Where is she ? She is loved by all of us. 
I scarce have heart to mingle in this matter. 
If she should be mishandled? 
Howard. No ; she shall not. 

The Queen had written her word to come to court ; 



ACT H.] QUEEN MARY. 43 

Metlioiiclit I smelt out llenavd in the letter, 
Aiul fearing for her, sent a secret missive, 
Wliicli told her to be sick. Happily or not, 
It foun;l her sick indeed. 
White. God send her well ; {Jhurish of trumpets tvithoiU) 

Her comes her Royal Grace. 

rS'e ilm-s c, are thrown open — Guauds enter, and form on cither side of the 
dooiway. Vkgv.?, cuter and fall on either side — then Mary ««rf Gar- 
diner. Sir Thomas Whith salutes and leads Iter to the raised seat — 
tJicn kneels. Gardiner stands on her rit/ht hand. Howard, l. of 
Maisy. Albeuueh and CiTV/.E^is 0}i the l. of f^taffe. Bagenhall in 
front of them. 

I, the Lord Mayor, and these our companies 
And guilds of London, gathered here, beseech 
Your Highness to accept our lowliest thanks 
For your most princely presence ; and we pray 
That we, your true and loyal citizens, 
From your own royal lips, at once may know 
The wherefore of this coming, and so learn 
Your royal will, and do it. — " I, Lord Mayor 
Of London, and our Guilds and Companies." 
AFary {waving her hand). In mine own jjcrson am I come to you. 
To tell you what indeed you see and know, 
How traitorously these rebels out of Kent 
Have made strong head against ourselves and you. 
They would not have me wed the Prince of Spain; 
That was their pretext — so they spake at first — 
But we sent divers of our Council to them, 
And by their answers to the question ask'd, 
It tloth appear this marriage is the least 
Or all their quarrel. 

They have betrayed the treason of their hearts : 
Seek to possess our person, hold our Tower, 
Place and displace our councillors, and use 
Both us and them according as they will. 
Now what am I ye know right well — your Queen ; 
To whom, when I was wedded to the realm 
And the realm's laws "(the spousal ring whereof, 
" Not ever to be laid aside, I wear 
" Upon this finger)," ye did promise full 
Allegiance and obedience to the death. 
" Ye know my father was the rishtful heir 
" Of England, and his right came down to me, 
" Corroborate by your acts of Parliament: 
" And as ye were most loving unto him, 
" So, doubtless, will ye show yourselves to me." 
Wherefore, ye will not brook that any one 
Should seize our person, occupy our state, 
More especially a traitor so ])resum[)tuous 
As this same Wyatt. who hath tamper'd with 
A public ignorance, and, under color 
Of such a cause as hath no color, seeks 
To bend the lav/s to his own will, and yield 
Full scope to persons rascal and forlorn. 
To make free spoil and havoc of your goods. 



44 aUEEN MAliY. [act II. 

" Now, as your Prince, I say, 

"I, that was never mother, cannot tell 

" How motliers love their children ; yet, methinks, 

" A prince as naturally may love his people 

" As these their children ; and be sure your Queen 

" So loves you, and so loving, needs must deem 

" This love by you relurii'd as heartily ; 

" And thro' this common knot and bond of love, 

" Doubt not they will be speedily overthrown." 

As to this marriage, ye shall luiderstaud 

We made thereto no treaty of ourselves, 

And set no foot theretoward unadvised 

Of all our Privy Council ; furthermore, 

This marriage had the assent of those to whom 

The king, my father, did commit his trust; 

Who not alone esteem'd it honorable. 

But for the wealth and glory of our realm. 

And all our loving subjects, most expedient. 

" As to mysulf, 

" I am not so set on wedlock as to choose 

" But wliere I list, nor yet so amorous 

" Thnt 1 must needs be husbanded ; I thank God, 

" I have lived a virgin, and I noway doubt 

" But that with God's grace, 1 can live so still. 

" Yet if it might please God that I should leave 

" Some fruit of mine own body after me, 

" To be your king, ye would rejoice thereat, 

" And it would be your comfort, as 1 trust ; 

" And" trulj', if I either thought or knew 

This marriage should bring loss or danger to you. 

My subjects, or impair in any way 

This royal state of England, I would never 

Consent thereto, nor marry while I live ; 

" Moreover, if this marriage should not seem, 

" Before our own high Court of Parliament, ' 

" To be of rich advantage to our realm, 

" We will refrain, and not alone from this, 

" Likewise from any other, out of which 

" Looms the least chance of peril to our realm." 

AVherefore be bold, and with your lawful Prince 

Stand fast against our enemies and yours, 

And fear them not. I fear them not. My Lord, 

I leave Lord William Howard in your city, 

To guard and keep you whole and safe from all 

The spoil and sackage aim'd at by these rebels. 

Who mouth and foam against the Prince of Spain. 
Voices of Citizens. Long live Queen Mary ! 

Down with Wyatt ! 

The Queen ! 
White {turning towards them and waving his hand for attenlion), 

" Tliree voices from our guilds and companies ! 

" You are shy and proud like Englishmen, my masters, 

" And will not trust your voices. Understand ; " 

Your lawful Prince hath come to cast herself 

" On loyal hearts and bosoms, hoped to fall " 

Into the wide-spread arms of fealty, 

" And finds you statues." Speak at once — and all ! 



Cl II. J QUKKN MAlil'. 45 

For wlioni 7 

" Oiiv Soverel;;n Lad}- by KinjT Harry's will ; 

" Tlie Queen of England — or the Kentish Squire 1 

" I know you loyal. Speak ! in the name of God ! " 

The Queen of England or the rabble of Kenti 

The reeliing dungfork master of tlie mace ! 

Your havings wasted by the scythe and spado — 

i'our rights and charters hobnail'd into slush — 

Your houses fired — your gutters bubbling blood 

Acclamation. No 1 no ! The Queen ! the Queen ! 

Whitii; {turn'nig foicards Mary). Your Highness hcav i 

This burst and bass of loyal harmony, 
" And how we each and all of us abhor 
" The venomous, bestial, devilish revolt 
" Of Thomas Wyatt." Hear us now make oath 
To raise your Highness thirty thousand men, 
And arm and strike as with one hand, and brush 
This Wyatt from our shoulders, like a flea 
That might have leapt upon lis unawares, {funnug round) 
Swear with me, noble fellow-citizens, " all, 
" With all your trades, and guilds, and companies." 

Citizens. We swear ! ^ 

Maey. We thank your Lordship and your loyal city, 

[Exit Maky and Gardiner, c. d., attended bi/ the Gctards. 

White {advancing c). I trust this day, thro' God, I have .saved the 
crown. 

Fins I' Alderman (l ). Ay, so my Lord of Pembroke in command 
Of all her force be safe ; but there are doubts. 

Second Alderman (l.). I hear that Gardiner, coming with the Quern, 
And meeting Pembroke, bent to his saddle-bow, 
As if to win the man by flattering him. 
Is he so safe to fight ui)on her side ] 

First Ald. If not, there's no man safe. 

White. Yes, Thomas White. 

I am safe enough ; no man need flatter me. 

Second Ald. Nay, no man need ; but did you mark our Queen 
The color freely play'd into her face, 
And the half sight which makes her look so stern, 
Seem'd thro' that dim dilated world of hers, 
To read our faces ; I have never seen her 
So queenly or so goodly. 

" White. Courage, sir, 

" That makes or man or woman look their goodliest. 
" Die like the torn fox dumb, but never whine 
"Like that poor heart, Northumb.°rland, at the b'ock. 

" Bagenhall. The man had children, and he whined for those. 
" Methinks most men are but poor-hearted, else 
" Should we so dote on courage, were it commoner 1 
" The Queen stands up, and speaks for her own self; 
" And all men cry, she is queenlj', she is goodly. 
" Yet she's no goodlier; tho' my Lord Mayor lK>re, 
"By his own rule, he hath been so bold to-day, 
" Should look more goodly than t!ie rest of us." 

White {with energy). G^mdly 1 I feel most goodiy heart and hand, '' 
And strong to throw ten Wyatts and all Kent. 
Ha, ha, sir! but you jest; I love it: a jest 
In time of danger shows the pulses even. 



46 QUEEN MARY. [aCT II. 

Be merry 1 yet, Sir Ralph, you look but sad. 

I dare avouch you'd stand up for yourself, 

Tho' all the world should bay like winter wolves. 
Bag. Who knows 1 the man is i)roveti by the hour. 
WniTE. Tii3 man shouhl make the hour, not this the man ; 

" And Thomas While will ])rove tiii.s Thomas WyaLt, 

" And he will prove an Idon to this Cade, 

"And he will j)lay the Walworth to this Wat."* 

Come, sirs, we prate ; hence all — gather your men — 

Myself must bustle. Wyatt comes to Southwark ; 

I'll have the drawbridge hewn into the Thames, 

And see tlie citizen arm'd. Good day ; good day. 

[Erit White, Aldekmen «w^ Citizens, c. d. 
Bag. One of much out-door bluster. 
Howard. For all that, 

Most honest, brave, and skillful ; " and his wealth 

" A fountain of perennial alms " — his fault 

So thorouirhly to believe in his own self. 
Bag. Yet thoroughly to believe in one's own self, 

So one's own self be thorough, were to do 

Great things, my Lord. 
Howard. It may be. 

Bag. I have heard 

One of your council fleer and jeer at him. 
Howard. The nursery-cocker'd child will jeer at aught 

That may seem strange beyond his nursery. 

The statesman that sliall jeer and fleer at men. 

Makes enemies for himself and for his king ; 

And if he jeer not seeing the true man 

Behind his folly, he is thrice the fool ; 

And if he sees the man and still will jeer, 

He is child and fool, and traitor to the slate. 

" Who is he ] Let me shun him. 
" Bag. Nay, my Lord, 

" He is damned enough already. 
'Howard." I must set 

The guard at Ludgate. Fare you well, Sir Ralpli. [Exit, c. d. 
Bag. "Who knows?" I am for England. But who knows, 

That knows the Queen, the Spaniard, and the Pope. 

Whether I be for Wyatt, or the Queen ? [E.i-il, c. d. 

SCENE III— London Bridge. 
Enter Sib Thomas Wyatt and Brett, l. 1 e. 
WvATT, Brett, when the Duke of Norfolk moved against us 

* Alluding to rebellions which occurred in previous reigns, the Icadcr.s of which 
were Jack Cade, and Wat Tyler. The latter wa-i invited to meet the Kin^,', Richard 
tho Second, in London, to confer as to a redress of tlie grievances complained of, and 
the meeting took place m an open spot called Smitlifleld. Tyler, who was a black- 
smith, was so insulting and overbearing in liis manner to the King, as to rouse the 
indignation of the Lord Mayor, William Wahvorlli, who stunned him with a blow of 
his macs, and one of the King's knights rifling up dispatched him with his sword. 
The rebels, seeing their leader fall, prepared lo lake revenge, and bent their bows, 
but the King, though only sixteen years old, witli admirable presence of mind, rode 
up to them and cried out, " What, my people, will you kill your king ! I will be 
your leader, follow mo into the field and you shall have whatever you desire." They 
did so, and he granted them a charter redressing their grievances, which, however, 
was shortly afterwards revoked in Parliament. 



ACr II. J QTJEEN MARY. 47 

Tliou criedst " a Wyatt," and flying to our side 
Loft his all bare, for wiiich I lovo thee, Brett. 
Have for thiiio askings an;^lit tliat I cm give, 
For thro' tliiiie helj) we are come to London Bridge? 
But how to cross it balks nie. I fear we cannot. 

Brett. Nay, hardly, save by boat, swimming, or wings. 

Wyatt. Last night I climb'd into the gate-liouse, Brett, 
And scared the gray old i)orter and his wife, 
And then I cre[)t along the gloom and saw 
They had hewn the drawbridge down into tiio river. 
" I( roll'd as black as death ; and tiiat same tide 
"Which, coming with our coming, seem'd to smile 
" And sparkle like our fortune aS thou saidest, 
" Ran suidess down, and moan'd against the piers." 
But o'er the chasm I saw Lord William Howard 
•By torchliaht, and his guard ; four guns gaped at me, 
Black, silent mouths : had Howard spied me Ihere 
And made them s{)eak, as well he might have done, 
Their voice had left me none to tell j^ou this. 
What shall we do 1 

Brett. On somehow. To go back 

Were to lose all. 

Wyatt. On over London Bridge 

We cannot : stay, we cannot ; there is ordnance 
On the White Tower and on the Devil's Tower,* 
And pointed full at Southwark -jf we must round 
By Kingston Bridge.:}: 

Brett. Ten miles about. 

Wyatt. E'en so. 

But I have notice from our partisans 
Within the city that they will stand by us 
If Ludgate^^ can be reach'd by dawn to-morrow. 

Enter one of Wyatt's i\Ien, with paper tvritiiiff, l. 1 e. 

Man. Sir Thomas, I've found this paper, pray, your worship, loail it; 
I know not my letters ; the old jniesls taught me nothing. 

Wyatt {lakes U and reads). " Whosoever will apprehend the traitor, 
Thomas Wyatt, shall have a hundred pounds for reward." 
iMa.\. Is that itl That's a big lot of money. 
W YATT. Ay, ay, my friend ; not read it 1 'tis not written 

Half ])lain enough. Give me a piece of paper ! {writes " Thomas 

Wyatt " large.) 
There, any man can read that, {stieh.i it in his cap, and strides «;; 
and down.) 
Buett. But that's foolhardy. 

Wyaxt. No! boldness which will give ray followers boldness. 



* Two portions of the Tower of London, a strong fortress at tho period of tlie 
drama, ou ttie city side of the river Tliuuies. 

t Tlie name of a portion of London on tlic opposite side of the river. 

} Kingston is (tie name of a town twelve or fourteen miles from London, up tiio 
river 1 hames. It is now a very large iilace, but at tlic period of the play was a veiy 
small one, and there was no bridge across the river between there and Ijondon— now 
there are a dozen or more. People were taken across in small row boats and barj^es. 

§The n.iino of one of the streets in the city of London leading ujj to St. Paul'f) 
Cross or Cathedral. 



48 QUEEN MART. [aCT II. 

Enter Man ivith a ^yrisoncr, l. 1 e. 

Man. We found him, your worship, a plundering o' Bishop Winclics- 
ler's liouse; he says he's a poor gentleman. 

Wyatt (u. c). Gentleman, a thief! Go hang him. Sliall wc raaUo 

Those that we come to serve our sharpest foes ? 

Brktt. Sir Thomas 

Wyatt. Hang him, I say. 

Brett. Wyatt, but now you promised me a boon. 
Wyatt. Ay, and I warrant this fine fellow's life. 
Brett. E'en so ; he was my neighbor once in Kent. 

He's poor enough, has dnmk and gambled out 

All that he had, and gentleman he was. 

We liave been glad together; let him live. 
Wyatt. He has gambled for his life, and lost, he hanss. 

No, no, my word's my word. Take thy poor gentleman ! 

Gamble thyself at once out of my sight, 

Or I will dig thee with my dagger. Away I 

\Exit both the men and prisoner, l. 1 e. 

" Women and children ! 

" Enter a eroivd of Women find Children. 

" First Woman. 0, Sir Thomas, Sir Thomas, pray you go away, Sir 
"Thomas, or you'll make the Wiiite Tower a black 'un for us this bless- 
" ed day. He'll be the death on us ; and you'll set the Divil's Tower a- 
" spitting, and he'll smash all our bits o' things worse than Philip o' 
" Spain. 

" Second Woman. Don't ye now go to think that we be for Philip o' 
" Spain. 

" Third Woman. No, we know that ye be come to kill the Queen, and 
" we'll pray for you all on our bended knees. But o' God's mercy don't 
" ye kill the Queen here. Sir Thomas ; look ye, here's little Dickon, 
"and little Robin, and little Jenny — though she's but a side cousin — 
" and all on our knees, we pray you to kill the Queen farther off, Sir 
" Thomas. 

" Wyatt. My friends, I have not come to kill the Queen 
" Or here or there ; I come to save you all, 
" And I'll go farther off. 

"Crowd. Thanks, Sir Thomas, we be beholden to j^ou, and we'll pray 
" for you on our bended knees till our lives' end. 

'Wyatt. Be happy, I am your friend." 

To Kingston, forward! [Exeunt, r. 1 e. 



SCENE IV. — Boom in the Gatehouse of Westminster Palace. 

Mary c, Alice r. c, Gardiner l. c, Renard l., Ladies k., discovered 
as the scene opens. 

Alice. madam, if Lord Pembroke should be false 1 

Mary {Jirmhi). No, girl ; most brave and loyal, brave and loyal. 

His breaking with Northumberland broke Northumberland. 

At the park gate he hovers with our guards. 

These Kentish ploughmen cannot break the guards. 

Enter Messenger, hurriedly, r. 1 e., cap in hand. 



ACT II. J QUKEN MAUr. 49 

Messenger {after saluting). Wyatt, j'our Grace, hath bi'oken thro' the 
guards 

And gone to Luilgate. (Mary starts, but remains firm.) 

[Messenger salutes and exits, K. 1 E. 
Gard. Madam, I much fear 

That all is lost ; hut we can save your Grace. 

The river still is free. I do beseech you, 

There yet is time, take boat and pass to Windsor.* 
Maby (sternly and bitterly). I pass to Windsor and I lose my crown. 
Garb. Pass, then, I pray your Highness, to the Tower.f 
Maky. I shall but be their prisoner in the Tower. 
Cries {without at back). The traitor ! treason ! Pembroke ! 
luKov^s. [alarmed). Treason! "treason!" 

Mary {firmly). Peace. 

False to Northumberland, is he false to me 1 

Bear witness, Renard, that I live and die 

The true and faithful bride of Philip. — A sound {clamorous noise 
without, and knocking at wooden gates) 

Of feet and voices thickening hither — blows — 

Hark, there is battle at the palace gates. 

And I will out upon the gallery, {makes a move towards window.) 

Ladies {intereefiting). No, no, your Grace ; see there the arrows flying. 

Mary {waving them back with commanding dignity, and drawinri herself 

up to her full height). I am Hany's daughter, Tudor, and 

not fear, {goes out on the gallery) 

The guards are all driven in, skulk into corners 

Like rabbits to their holes. A gracious guard 

Truly ; shame on them, they have shut the gates! 

Enter Sir Robert Southwell, l. 1 e. 

So0THWEiiL {saluting). The porter, please your Grace, hath shut the 
gates 
On friend and foe. Your gentlemen-at-arms, 
If this be not your Grace's order, cry 
To have the gates set wide again, and they 
With their good battle-axes will do you right 
Against all traitors. 
Mart {veh&mently). They are the flower cvf England ; set the gates 
wide. [Exit Southwell. 

Enter Courtenat, excitedly, r. 1 e. 

Court, (r. c). All lost, all lost, all yielded ; a barge, a barge ; 

The Queen nlu.^t to the Tower. 
Mary {firmly and calmly) Whence come you, sirl 

Court. From Charing Cross •,% the rebels broke us there, 

And I sped hither with what haste I might 

To save my royal cousin. 
Mary {eagerly). Where is Pembroke 1 

Court. I left him somewhere in the thick of it. 

* A town about twenty miles from London, -with a strong castle, used as one of 
the royal residencss ; celebrated also for a masniflcent park. 

t A fortress on the banks of the Thames, then used as a prison for traitors and a 
garrison for troops. 

X A village in the suburbs of London, but now one of the great central spots in the 
heart of it. 



50 QUEEN MART. [aCT II. 

M.A.B.T {bitterhj, advancing ta c). Left him and fled; and thou that 
wouldst be king, 
And hast nor heart nor honor. I myself 
Will down into the battle and there bide 
The upshot of my quarrel, or die with those 
That are no cowards and no Courtenays. 

She waves her hand; Gpaeds enter, r. and l. 1 e., and range up the stage 

each side. 

Co0BT. I do not love your Grace should call me coward, {hows and 
draws back.) 

Enter another Messenger, hurriedly, cap in Jiand, l. 1 e. 

Messenger. Over, your Grace, all crush'd ; (Mary staHs, clenches her 
hand convulsively, and smiles with joy) 

The brave Lord William 

Thrust him from Ludgate, and the traitor flying 

To Temple Bar, there by Sir Maurice Berkeley 

Was taken prisoner. 
Mart (c. — sternly). To the Tower with him .' 

Mes. 'Tis said he told Sir Maurice there was one 

Cognizant of this, and party thereunto, 

My Lord of Devon. 
Mary, To the Tower with Am/ 

Court. •' la, the Tower," the Tower, always the Tower; 

I shall grow into it — I shall be the Tower. 
Mary {sarcasHcalltj). Your Lordship may not have so long to wait. 

Remove him ! 
Court. " La," to whistle out my life, 

And carve my coat upon the walls again ! 

[Exit CouRTENAY, K. 1 E., guarded. 
Mes. Also this Wyatt did confess the Princess 

Cognizant thereof, and party thereunto. 
Mary {startled and breathless). What 1 whom — whom did you say 1 
Mes. Elizabeth, 

Your royal sister. 
Mary. To the Tower with her ! 

(with forcible dignity, raising herself erect) My foes are at my feet 
and I am Queen. (Gardiner and her Ladies kneel to her.) 
Gard. {rising). There let them lie, your footstool ! {aside) Can I 
strike 

Elizabeth ? — not now and save the life 

Of Devon ; if I save him, he and his 

Are bound to me — may strike hereafter, {aloud) Madam, 

What Wyatt said, or what they said he said, 

Cries of the moment and the street 

Mary, He said it, 

Gard, Your courts of justice will determine that. 
Ren. {who all this time has been standing to the l. of the window calmly 
and keenly watching all going on, now advances slowly, and 
speaks smoothly and softly). I trust by this your Highness 
will allow 

Some spice of wisdom in my telling yon, 

When last we talk'd, that Philip would not come 



ACI III.] QUEEN MAET. 51 

Till Guildford Diulley and the Duke of Suffolk 

And Lady Jane bad left us. 
Mary. They shall die. 

Ren. And your so loving sister 1 
Mary (Jirm!;/ and sfcrnli/). She shall die. 

My foes are at my feet, and Philip King. 

With force and pride — head throivn bach—fujurc erect — foiniing her right 
hand to the ground. Renard crosses his arms, and smiks sardonically. 
Tableau. — The Act drop descends slowly. 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. — The conduit in Gracechurch, painted with the Nine Worthies, 
among them King Henry VIII. holding a book, on it inscribed " Verbum 
Dei." 

Enter Sir Ralph Bagenhall, l. 1 ■E..,folloived bySm Thomas Stafford, 
who draws aside. 

Bag. {meditating, c ) A hundred here and hundreds hang'd in Kent. 

The tiaiess had unsherith'd her nails at last, 

And Renard and the Cliancellor sharpen'd them. 

In every London street a gibbet stood. 

They are down to-day. Here by this house was cue ; 

The traitor husband dangled at the door, 

And when the tiaitor wife came out for bread 

To still the petty treason tberewithin, 

Her cap would brush his heels. 
Stafford (aside). It is Sir Ralph, 

And muttering to himself as heretofore. 

{aloud, advancing) Sir, see you aught up yonder 1 
Bag. I miss something. 

The tree that only bears dead fruit is gone, 
Staf. (l. c). What tree, sir 1 
Bag. Well, the tree in Virgil, sir, 

That bears not its own apples. 
Staf. What! the gallows "? 

Bag. Sir, this dead fruit was ripening overmuch, 

And had to be removed lest living Spain 

Should sicken at dead England. 
Staf. Not so dead, 

But that a shock may rouse her. 
Bag. {scrutinizing him). I believe 

Sir Thomas Stafford 1 
Staf. I am ill disguised. 

Bag. Well, are you not in peril here ? 
Staf. I think so. 

I came to feel the pulse of England, whether 

It beats hai'd at this marriage. " Did you see if? 
" Bag. Stafford, I am a sad man and a serious. 

" Far liefer had I in my country hall 

" Been reading some old book, with mine old hound 



■52 auEEN iiAur. [act hi. 

" Couch'd at my liearih, and mine old flask of wine 

" Beside me, than have seen it, yet 1 saw il. 
" Staf. Good," was it splendid 1 
Bag. Ay, if dukes, and earls, 

And counts, and sixty Spanish cavaliers. 

Some six or seven bishops, diamonds, pearls, 

That royal commonplace too, cloth of gold, 

Could make it so. 
Staf. And what was Mary's dress 1 

Bag. Good faith, I was too sorry for the woman 

To mark the dress. She wore red shoes !* 
Staf. Red shoes ! 

Bag. Scarlet, as if her feet were wasli'd in blood, 

As if she had waded in it. 
Staf. Were your eyes 

So bashful that you look'd no higher 1 
Bag. a diamond, 

And Philip's gift, as proof of Philip's love. 

Who hath not any for any — tho' a true one. 

Blazed false upon her heart. 

Staf. But this proud Prince 

Bag. Nay, he is King, you know, the King of Naples. 

The father ceded Naples, that the son 

Being a King, might wed a Queen — he 

Flamed in brocade — white satin his trunk hos?, 

Inwrought with silver — on his neck a collar. 

Gold, thick with diamonds ; hanging down from this 

The Golden Fleecef — and round his knee, misplaced, 

Our English Garter,:|: studded with great emeralds. 

Rubies, I know not what. Have you had enough 

Of all this gear 1 
Staf. Ay, since you hate the telling it. 

How look'd the Queen 1 
Bag. No fairer for her jewels. 

And I could see that as the new-made couple 

Came from the Minster,<) moving side by side 

Beneath one canopy, ever find anon 

She cast on him a vassal smile of love, 

Which Philip with a glance of some distaste. 

Or so methought, return'd. I may be wrong, sir. 

This marriage will not hold. 
" Staf. I think with you. 

" The King of France will help to break it. 
"Bag. France! 

" We once had half of France, and hurl'd our battles 

" Into the heart of Spain ; but England now 

* Typical of her popish principles. 

t A Spanish decoration of honor. 

t The highest order of honor in England. It was instituted in the reijrn of Kinjf 
Edward the I'hird, the number of members consisuug of twenty-four persons besides 
the King. The motto of the order is " Honi soit qui mal y pense,"'— evil be to liim 
who evil thinks As the story runs, an accident {rave rise to the establishment of tliis 
order. The Countess of Salisbury was at a ball, when one of her t'arters loosened 
and fell on the floor— the King perceiving it, stepped forward and picked it up, hand- 
ing it to her with the above words. 

§ Westminster Abbey, a magnificent and ancient structure on the banks of the 
Thames, wherein the English monarchs are crowned. 



ACT III.] QUEEN MAET. 53 

" Is but a ball chuck'd between France and Spain, 

" His in wliose hand slie dio[)S. Harry of Bolingbroke 

" Had liolpen Richard's tottering throne to stand. 

" Could Harry have foreseen that all our nobles 
" Would perisii on tlie civil slaughter-field, 

" And leave the people naked to the crown, 

" And the crown naked to the people ; the crown 

" Female, too! Sir, no woman's regimen 

" Can save us." We are fallen, and as I think, 

Never to rise again. 
Staf. You are too black-blooded. 

I'd make a move myself to hinder that : 

I know some lusty fellows there in France. 
Bag. You would but make us weaker, Thomas Stafford. 

Wyatt was a good soldier, yet he fail'd. 

And strengthen'd Philip. 
Staf. Did not his last breath 

Clear Courtenay and the Princess from the charge 

Of being his co-rebels 1 
Bag. Ay, but then 

What such a one as Wyatt says is nothing ; 

We have no men among us. The new Lords 

Are quieted with their sop of Abbeylands, 

And e'en before the Queen's face Gardiner buys them 

With Philip's gold. All greed, no faith, no courage ! 

" Why, e'en the haughty prince, Northumberland, 

" The leader of our Reformation, knelt 

" And blubber'd like a lad, and on the scaffold 

"Recanted, and resold himself to Rome." 
Staf. I swear you do your country wrong, Sir Ralph. 

I know a set of exiles over there, 

Dare-devils, that would eat fire and spit it out 

At Philip's beard ; they pillage Spain already. 

The French king winks at it. An hour will come 

When they will sweep her from the seas. " No men 1 

" Did not Lord Suffolk die like a true man ? 

" Is not Lord William Howard a true man 1 

" Yea, you yourself, altho' you are black-blooded : 

" And I, by God, believe myself a man. 

" Ay, even in the church there is a man — 

" Cranmer. 

" Fly, would he not, when all men bade him fly. 

" And what a letter he wrote against the Pope 1 

" There's a brave man, if any. 
"Bag. Ay; if it hold." 

Murmurs without, which increase. Citizens and Ckowd enter, l. rr. E. 

Crowd. God save their Graces ! 

Staf. Bagenhall, I see 

The Tudor green and white, (tf-umpets) They are coming now. 

And here's a crowd as thick as' herring-shoals. 
Bag. Be limpets to this pillar, or we are torn 

Down the strong wave of brawlers, [t/iei/ withdraw, l. 1 e.) 
Crowd. God save their Graces. 

Procession enters, l, c. e, consisting of Trumpeters, Javelinmen, etc.; 



54 QUEEN MAKT. [aCT III. 

then Spanish and Flemish Nobles intermingled ; passes slowly across, 
and exits, r. 1 e. Flourish of trumpets. 

" Staf. Worth seeing, Bagenhall ! These black dog-Dons 

" Garb tliemselves bravely. Who's the long face there, 

" Looks very Spain of very Spain 1 
" Bag. The Duke 

" Of Alva, an iron soldier. 
" Staf. And the Dutchman, 

" Now laughing at some jest 1 
" Bag. William of Orange, 

" William the Silent. 
" Staf. Why do they call him so 1 

" Bag. He keeps, they say, some secret that may cost 

" Philip his life. 
" Staf. But then he looks so merry. 

" Bag. I cannot tell you why they call him so." 

Guakds, the King and Queen, attended by Gardiner, Peers of the 
Realm, Officers of State, Pages, ete., enter, l. u. e., and pass 
across sloivly to a. 1 e., and exit, amidst shouting and waving of caps. 

Crowd. Philip and Mary ! Philip and Mary ! 

" Long live the King and Queen, Philip and Mary ! " 

Staf. They smile as if content with one another. 

Bag. a smile abroad is oft a scowl at home. 

First Cit. (c). I thought this Philip had been one of those black 
devils of Spain, but he hath a yellow beard. 

Second Cit. Tl. c). Not red like Iscariot's. 

First Cit. Like a carrot's, as thou sayst, and English carrot's better 
than Spanish licorice ; but I thought he was a beast. 

Third Cit. (r. c). Certain I had heard that every Spaniard carries a 
tail like a devil under his trunk hose. 

Tailor (l.). Ay, but see what trunk hoses! Lord! they be fine ; I 
never stitch'd none such. They make amends for the tails. 

Fourth Cit. (r.). Tut! every Spanish priest will tell you that all 
English heretics have tails. 

Fifth Cit. (r.). Death and the devil — if he find I have one 

Fourth Cit. Lo ! thou hast call'd them up ! here they come — a pale 
horse for death and Gardiner for the devil. 

Enter Gardiner, r. 1 e. ('having turned hach from the procession ) , acconi- 
jmnicd by two Attendants. 

Gabd. (crossing ove?-). Knave, wilt thou wear thy cap before the Queen ^ 
Man (l.). My Lord, I stand so squeezed among the crowd 

I cannot lift my hands unto my head. 
Gard. Knock off his cap there, some of you about him ! {it isknoched off) 

See, there be others that can use their hands. 

Thou art one of Wyatt's men 1 
^^'AN. No, my Lord, no. 

Gard. Thy name, thou knave 1 

Man. I am nobody, my Lord. 

Gard. {shouting and threatening). " God's passion ! " knave, thy name 1 
Man. I have ears to hear. 

Gard. Ay, rascal, if I leave thee ears to hear. 

Find out his name and bring it me. (to Attendant.) 



ACX III.] QUEEN MAKY. 55 

" Attendant. Ay, my Lord. 

" Gard." Knave, tliou slialt lose thine ears and find thy tongue, 

And shalt be tliankful if I leave thee that, {^pausing, and then 
looking round) 

" The conduit painted — the nine worthies — ay ! 

" But then what's herel King Harry with a scroll. 

" Ha — Verbuta Dei — verbuni — word of God ! 

" God's passion ! do you know tlie knave that painted it 1 
" Attendant. I do, my Lord. 
" Gard. Tell him to paint it out, 

" And put some fresh device in lieu of it — 

" A pair of gloves, a pair of gloves, sir ; ha 1 

" There is no heresy there. 
" Attendant. I will, my Lord. 

" The man shall paint a pair of gloves. I am sure 

" (Knowing t!)e man) he wrought it ignorantly, 

" And not from any malice. 
"Gard. Word of God 

" In English ! over this the brainless loons, 

" That cannot spell Esaias from St. Paul, 

" Make tliemselves drunk and mad, fly out and flare 

" Into rebellions. I'll have their Bibles burnt. 

" Tlie Bible is the priest's." Ay ! fellow, what ! 

Stand staring at me ! shout, you gaping rogue. 
Man. I have, my Lord, shouted till I am hoarse. 
Gard. What hast thou shouted, knave 1 

Man. Long live Queen Mary ! 

Gard. Knave, there be two. There be both King and Queen, 

Philip and Mary. Shout. 
Man. {expostulating). Nay, but, my Lord, 

The Queen comes first — Mary and Philip. 
Gard. Shout, then, 

Mary and Philip. 
Man. Mary and Philip ! 

Gard. Now, 

Thou hast shouted for thy pleasure, shout for mine ! 

Philip and Mary ! 
Man. Must it be so, my Lord ? 

Gard. Ay, knave. 

Man. Philip and Mary ! 

Gard. I distrust thee. 

Thine is a half voice and a lean assent. 

" What is thy name ? 
" Man. Sanders. 

" Gard. What else 1 

" Man. Zorubbabel. 

" Gard. Where dost thou live ? 
"Man. In Cornhill. 

" Gard. Where, knave, where 1 

" Man. Sign of the Talbot. 
" Gard." Come to me to-morrow. — 

Rascal ! — this land is like a hill of fire, 

One crater opens when another shuts. 

But so I get the laws against the heretic. 

Spite of Lord Paget and Lord William Howard, 

And otliers of our Parliament, revived, 

I will show fire on my side — stake and fire — 



66 QUEEN MAKT. [aCT III. 

Sharp work and short. The knaves are easilj' cow'd. 

Follow their Majesties. 

[£xi(, R. 1 IS. — Attendants, Citizens, nnd Crowd following. 
Bag. {ntlmiiciiiff, to c). A« i>roud as Becket.* 

Staf. You would not have him murdered as Becket was"? 
Bag. No — murder fathers murder; but I say 

There is no man — there was one woman with us — 

It was a sin to love her marriedj dead 

I cannot choose but love her. 
Staf. Lady Jane ?f 

Crowd {without). God save their Graces. 

' Staf. Did you see her die 7 

" Bag. No, no ; her innocent blood had blinded me. 

" You call me too black-blooded — true enough 

" llfv dark dead blood is in my heart with mine. 

" If ever I cry out against the Pope 

" Her dark dead blood that ever moves with mine 

" Will stir the living tongue and make the cry. 
" Staf. Yet doubtless you can toll me how she died ? 
" Bag. Seventeen — and knew eight languages — in music 

"Peerless — her needle perfect, and her learning 

" Beyond the churchmen ; yet so meek, so modest, 

" So wife-like humble to the trivial boy 

" Mismatch'd with her for pol'cy ! I have heard 

" Slie would not take a last farewell of him, 

" She fear'd it might unman him for his end. 

" She could not be unman'd — no, nor outwoman'd — 

" Seventeen — a rose of grace ! 

" Girl never breathed to rival such a rose ; 

" Rose never blew that equall'd such a bud. 
" Staf. Pray you go on. 
" Bag. She came upon the scaffold, 

" And said she was coudemu'd to die for treason ; 

" She had but follow'd the device of those 

" Her nearest kin ; she tliought they knew the laws. 

" But for herself, she knew but little law, 

" And nothing of the titles to the ci'own ; 

" She had no desire for tliot, and wrung her hands, 

" And trustad God would save her thro' the blood 

" Of Jesus Christ alone. 
" Staf. Pray you go on. 

"Bag. Then knelt and said the Miserere Mei — 

" But all in English, mark you ; rose again, 

"And, when the headsman pray'd lo be forgiven, 

" Said, ' You will give me my true crown at last, 

* In the rei^n of King Henry the Second, Thomas a' Becket, the sod of a LanJoa 
citizen, rose step by step until lie became Archbishop of Canterbury, a dignity second 
only to that of the sovenngn. But arrogance, revolution and cruelty, led liiai to de- 
struction. His conduct became so tyrannical, disloyal, and overbearin^'■, that Henry 
earnestly and openly expressed a wish to be rid of him, which four of liis. attendants 
overhearing, determined to gratify. Tlipy proceeded to Canterbur r, made their way 
into Becket's apartments and reproac!i.^d him fiercely for his conduct towards the 
King. During the altercation, the time for vespers arrived, whither he in^oceeded. 
unguarded, followed by his unexpected visitors, who, as soon as he reached the altar 
fell upon and destroyed him by repeated blows on the he;id. A shrine was after- 
wards erected to his memory, and is still in existence in the cathedral, to mark the 
spot where he fell. 

t Alluding to Lady Jane Grey, who, after a brief reign of twelve days, had been 
deposed and beheaded with her husband and many of her adherents. 



ACr III.] QUEEN UAKY. 57 

" But do it quickly ;" then all wept but she, 
" Wlio chanijed not color when she saw the block, 
" But ask'd him, childhke : ' Wiii you take it otf 
" Before I lay me down V ' No, madam,' he said, 
" Gaspini? ; and when her innocent eyes were bound, 
'• She, with her poor blind hands feeling — ' where is it ? 
" Where is it V You must fancy that which follow'd, 
" If you have heart to do it ! 

"CltowD {in the distance). God save their Graces!" 

Staf. (bitter!//). Their Graces, our disgraces ! God confound them ! 
Why, she's grown bloodier! "when I last was here, 
" This was against her conscience — would be murder !" 

Bag. The " Thou shalt do no murder," which God's hand 
Wrote on her conscience, jMary rubb'd out pale — 
She could not make it white — and over that, 
(vchem'tiili/) Traced in the blackest text of Hell — " Thou 
shalt!" 
And sign'd it — Mary ! 

SrAF. Philip and the Pope 

Must have sign'd too. I hear this Legate's coming 
To bring us absolution from the Pope. 
The Lords and Commons will bow down before him — 
You are of the house '? what will you do. Sir Ralph 1 

Bag. And why should I be bolder than the rest, 
Or honester than all ] 

Staf. But, sir, if I — 

" And over sea they say this stale of yours 
" Hath no more mortise than a tower of cards ; 
" And that a putF would do it — then if I " 
And others made that move I touch'd upon, 
Back'd by the power of France, and landing here, 
Came with a sudden splendor, shout, and show, 
"And dazzled men and deafen'd by some bright 
" Loud venture, and the people so unquiet — 
" And I the race of murder'd Buckingham " — 
Not for myself, but for the kingdom — Sir, 
I trust that you will fight along with us. 

Bag. No ; you would fling your lives into the gulf. 

Staf. But if this Philip, as he's like to do, 
Left Mary a wife-widow here alone, 
Set up a viceroy, sent his myriads hither 
To seize upon the forts and fleet, and make us 
A Spanish province; would you not fight thenl 

Bag. I think I should fight then. 

Staf. I am sure of it. 

Hist! there's the face coming on here of one 
Who knows me. I must leave you. Fare you well. 
You'll hear of me again. [Exit, r. 1 e. 

Bag. {sorroivfulhj). Upon the scafibld. [Exit, l. 1 e. 

SCENE l\.—Room in Whitehall Palaee. 

Enter Mary, Philip, and Cakdixal Polk, c. d., preceded by Pagks, ivho 
draw up on either side, and, ivhen the Queen and others have advanced, 
retire, c. d. 



58 aUEEN MAKY. [aCT III. 

Pole {hendlng low). Ave Maria, gratia plena, Benedicta tii in mulieri- 

bus.* 
Makt (c). Loyal and royal cousin, humblest thanks. 

Had you a pleasant voyage up the river ? 
Pole (l. c). We had your royal barge, and that same chair, 

Or rather throne of purple, on the deck. 

Our silver cross sparkled before the prow, 

The ripples twinkled at their diamond dance, 

The boats that follow'd were as glowing-gay 

As regal gardens ; and your flocks of swans 

As fair and white as angels; and your shores 

Wore in mine eyes the green of Paradise, 

My foreign friends, who dream'd us blanketed 

In ever-closing fog, were much amazed 

To find as fair a sun as might have flash'd 

Upon their Lake of Garda, fire the Thames ; 

Our voyage by sea was all but miracle ; 

And here the river flowing from the sea, 

Not toward it (for they thought not of our tides), 

Seem'd as a happy miracle to make glide— 

Li quiet — home your banish'd countryman. 
Mary. We heard that you were sick ia Flanders, cousin. 
Pole. A dizziness. 

Mary. And how came you round again 1 

Pole. The scarlet thread of Rahab saved her life ; 

And mine, a little letting of the blood. 
Mary. WelH now'? 
Pole. Ay, cousin, as the heathen giant 

Had but to touch the ground, his force return'd — 

Thus, after twenty years of banishment, 

Feeling my native land beneath my foot, 

I said thereto : " Ah, native land of mine, 

Thou art much beholden to this foot of mine, 

That hastes with full commission from the Pope 

To absolve thee from thy guilt of heresy. 

Thou hast disgraced me and attainted me, 

And mark'd me e'en as Cain, and I return, 

As Peter, but to bless thee : make me well." 

Methinks the good land heard me, for to-day 

My heart beats twenty when I see you, cousin. 

Ah, gentle cousin, since your Herod's death. 

How oft hath Peter knock'd at Mary's gate ! 

And Mary would have risen and let him in. 

But, Mary, there were those within the house 

Who would not have it. 
Mary. True, good cousin Pole ; 

And there were also those without the house 

Who would not have it. 
Pole. I believe so, cousin. 

State policy and church policy are conjoint, 

But Janus- faces looking diverse ways. 

I fear the Emperor much misvalued me. 

But all is well ; 'twas e'en the will of God, 

Who, waiting till the time had ripen'd, now 

Makes me his mouth of holy greeting. " Hail, 

* Hail, Mary, full of grnco, blcisscd art tlioii nino.if; v.'omeri. 



ACT III.] QUKEN MAUT. 69 

Daughter of God, and saver of tlie faith ; 

Sit beuedictus fructus ventris tui ! "* 
Mart {startled). Ah, Heaven ! 

Pole {keenli/). Unwell, your Grace 1 

Mahy {evasiiichj). No, cousin, happy — ■ 

Happy to see you ; never yet so liappj'' 

Since I was crown'd. 
Pole. Sweet cousin, you forget 

That long low minster where you gave your hand 

To this great Catholic King. 
Philip (r. c. — coldly). Well said, Lord Legate. 

Mavly {iurni»ff to Puilip lovingly). Nay, not well said; I thought of 
you, my liege. 

E'en as I spoke, {then turning to Pole.) 
" Phil. Ay, madam ; my Lord Paget 

" Waits to present our Council to the Legate. 

" Sit down here, all ; madam, between us you. 
" Pole. Lo, now you are enclosed with boards of cedar, 

'• Our little sister of the Song of Songs ! 

" You are doubly fenced and shielded sitting here 

" Between the two most high-set thrones on earth, 

" The Emperor's highness happily symboll'd by 

" The King your husband, the Pope's holiness 

" By mine own self. 
" Mary. True, cousin, I am happy." 

When will you that we summon both our houses 

To take this absolution from your lips, 

And be regather'd to the Papal fold 1 
Pole. In Britain's calendar the brightest day 

" Beheld our rough forefathers break their gods, 

" And clasp the faith in Christ ; but after that " 

Might not St. Andrew's be her happiest day 1 
Mary. Then these shall meet upon St. Andrew's day. 
Pole. I am an old man, wearied with my journey. 

E'en with my joy. Permit me to withdraw. 

To Lambeth 1 
Phil, {bitterly) Ay, Lambeth has ousted Cranmer. 

It was not meet the heretic swine should live 

In Lambeth. 
Mart. There or anywhere, or at all. 

Phil. We have had it swept and garnish'd after him. 
Pole. Not for the seven devils to enter in 1 
Phil. No, for we trust they parted in the swine. 
Pole. True, and I am the angel of the Pope. 

Farewell, your Graces. 
Phil. Nay, not here — to me ; 

I will go with you to the waterside. 
Pole. Not be my Charon to the counter side 1 
Phil. No, my Lord Legate ; the Lord Chancellor goes. 
Pole. And unto no dead world ; but Lambeth Palace, 

Henceforth a centre of the living faith, 
[Exeunt Pole, c. d., accompanied by Philip, ivho coldly takes Mart's hand. 
" Manet Mary. He hath awaked ! he hath awaked ! 

" He stirs within the darkness ! 

" Oh, Philip, husband ! now thy love >to mine 

* Blessed be the fruit of thy womb. 



60 QTJEKN MAKr. [aCT III, 

" Will clina; more dose, and those bleak manners thaw, 

" Tiiat make me shamed and tongue-tied in my love. 

" The second Prince of Peace — 

" The great unborn defender of the Faitli, 

" Who will avenge me of mine enemies — 

" He conies, and ray star rises. 

" The stormy Wyaits and North umberlands, 

" The proud ambitions of Elizabeth, 

" And ail her fieriest partisans — are pale 

"Before my star ! 

" The light of this new learning wanes and dies : 

" The ghosts of Luther and Zuinglius fade 

" Into the deathless hell which is their doom 

" Before my star ! 

" His sceptre shall go forth from Ind to lud ! 

" His sword shall hew tlie heretic peoples down ! 

" His faith shall clothe the world that will bo his, 

" Like universal air and sunshine ! Open, 

" Ye everlasting gates ! The King is here ! — 

" My star, my son ! 

" UnterVniLip, Duke op Alva, elc. 

"Oh, Philip, come with me ! 

*' Good news have I to tell you — news to make 

" Both of us happy — ay, the kingdom too. 

" Nay, come with me — one moment ! 
" Phil, {to Alva). More than that : 

" Tliere was one here of late — William the Silent 

" They call him — he is free enough in talk, 

" But tells me nothing. You will be, we trust, 

" Some time the viceroy of those provinces — 

" He must deserve his surname better. 
" Alva. Ay, sir ; 

" Inherit the Great Silence. 
"Phil. True; the provinces 

" Are hard to rule and must be hardly ruled ; 

'• Most fruitful, yet, indeed, an empty rind, 

" All hollow'd out with stinging heresies ; 

" And for their heresies, Alva, tliey will fight; 

" You must break them or they break you. 
" Alva ( proudly). The first. 

" Phil. Good ! 

"Well, madam, this new happiness of mine. [Exeunt 

"Enter Three Pages. 

" First Page. News, mates ! a miracle, a miracle ! news ! 

'• The bells must ring ; Te Deunis must be sung ; 

" The Queen hath felt the motion of her babe 1 
' Second Page. Ay ; but see here! 
" First Page. See what 1 

" Second Page. This paper, Dickon. 

" I found it fluttering at the palace gates : — 

" ' The Queen of England is delivered of a dead dog !' 
" Third Page. These are the things that madden her. Fie upon itl 
" First Page, Ay ; but I hear she hath a dropsf , lad, 



ACT 111.] tlUEKN MaKY. 



61 



" Or a high-dropsy, as the doctors call it. 
" Third Page. Fie on her dropsy, so she have a dropsy ! 

" I know that she was ever sweet to me. 
" First Page. For tlioii and thine are Roman to the core. 
" TuiRD Page. So thou and thine must be. Take heed ! 
" First Page. Not I ! 

" And whether this flash of news be false or true, 

" So the wine run, and there be reveh'y, 

" Content am I. Let all the steeples clash, 

" Till the sun dance, as upon Easter Day. [Exeunt." 

SCENE Ul.— Great hall m WhUehall. At the far end a dais. On (hit 
three chairs, tivo under one canopy for Mary and Philip, another on the 
right of these for Pole. On the right, near the chair of Pole, a 
tribune or reading-desk, slighlhj raised above the other parts. Under 
the dais on Pole's side, ranged along the wall, k , sit all thi Spiritual 
Peers, and along the wall, opposite l., all the Temporal. The Commons 
on cross benches in front, n line of approach to the dais between them. In 
the foreground, r.. Sir Ralpu Bagenhall, and other Members op 
THE Commons, 

First Member. St. Andrew's day ; sit close, sit close, we are friends. 

" Is reconciled the word ? The Pope again 1 

" It must be thus ; and yet cocksbody !" bow strange 

That Gardiner, once so one with all of us 

Against this foreign marriage, should have yielded 

So utterly ! — strange ! but stranger still that he, 

So fierce against the Headship of the Pope, 

Should play the second actor in this pageant 

That brings him in ; such a chameleon he ! 
Second Mem. This Gardiner turn'd his coat in Henry's time ; 

The serpent that hath slough'd will slough again. 
Third Mem. Tut, then we all are serpents. 
Second Mem. Speak for yourself. 

Third Mem. Ay, and for Gardiner! being English citizen. 

How should he bear a bridegroom out of Spain 1 

The Queen would have him ! beins English churchman, 

How should he bear the headship of the Pope "? 

The Queen would have it. Statesmen that are wise 

Shape a necessity, as the sculptor clay. 

To their own model. 
Second Mem. Statesmen that are wise 

Take truth herself for model, {to Bagenhall) What say you ? 
Bag, We talk and talk. 
First Mem. Ay, and what use to talk "? 

Philip's no sudden alien — the Queen's husband. 

He's here, and king, or will be — " yet cocksbody ! 

" So hated here !" I watch'd a hive of late ; 

My seven years' friend was with me, my young boy ; 

Out crept a wasp, with half the swarm behind. 

" Philip," says he, " I had to cuff the rogue 

For infant treason." 
Third Mem. But they say that bees. 

If any creeping life invade their hive 

Too gross to be thrust out, will build him round, 

And bind him in from harming of their combs. 

And Philip by these articles is bound 



62 QUEEN MARY. [aCT III. 

From stirring hand or foot to wrong the realm. 
Second Mem. By bonds of beeswax, like yom* creeping thing ; 

But your wise bees had slung him tirsl to death. 
Thikd Men. Hush, hush ! 

You wrong tlie Chancellor : the clauses added 

To that same treaty which the Emperor sent us 

Were mainly Gardiner's : that no foreigner 

Hold office in the household, fleet, forts, army ; 

That if the Queen should die without a child, 

The bond between the kingdoms be dissolved ; 

That Philip should not mix us any way 

With his French wars 

Second Mem. Ay, ay, but what security 

Good sir, for this, if Philip 

Third Mem. Peace — the Queen, 

Philip, and Pole, {all rise and stand.) 

Enter Guards, l. 1 e., who pass up the centre, and file of r. and l. of the 
chairs; then enter, L. 1 B., Gardiner, Mart, Philip, and Pole. 
Gardiner conducts thnn to the three chairs of state, Philip si,ts on the 
Queen's left, Pole o» her right. 

Gard. (c. — bowing loiv). Our short-lived sun, before his winter plunge, 

Laughs at the last red leaf, and Andrew's Day. 
Mart. Should not this da}' be held in after years 

Moj-e solemn than of old 1 
Phil. Madam, my wish 

Echoes your Majesty's. 
Pole. It shall be so. 

Gard. Mine echoes both your Graces' ; " {aside) but the Pope — 

" Can we not have the Catholic Church as well 

" Without as with the Italian 1 if we cannot, 

" Why then the Pope." {turns towards r. and then l.) 
My lords of tlie upper house, 

And ye, my masters of the lower house, 

D(i ye stand fast by that which ye resolved 1 
Voices. We do. 
Gard. And be you all one mind to supplicate 

The Legate here for pardon, and acknowledge 

The primacy of the Pope 1 
Voices. We are all one mind. 

Gard. {aside). Then must I play the vassal to this Pole. 

lie draws a paper from under his robes and presents it to the King and Queen', 
tvho look through it and return it to him ; then ascends the tribune, and 

reads. 

We, the Lo .(Is Spiritual and Temporal, 

And Commons here in Parliament assembled, 

Presenting the whole body of this realm 

Of England, and dominions of the same, 

Do make most humble suit unto your Majesties, 

In our own name and that of all the state, 

That by your gracious means and intercession 

Our supplication be exhibited 

To the Lord Cardinal Pole, sent here as Legato 

From our mo.st holy father Juliu-s, Pope, 



ACT III.] QTJEEN- M.VET. 63 

And from the apostolic see of Rome ; 
And do declare our penitence and grief 
For our long schism and disobedience, 
Either in making laws and ordinances 
Against the Holy Father's primacy, 
Or else by doing or by speaking au<:;ht 
Which might impugn or prejudice the same ; 
By this our supplication- promising, 
As well for our own selves as all tlie realm, 
That now we be and ever shall be quick. 
Under and with your Majesties' authorities. 
To do to the utmost all that in us lies 
Towards the abrogation and repeal 
Of all such laws and ordinances made ; 
Whereon we humbly pray your Majesties, 
As persons undefiled with our offence, 
So to set forth this humble suit of ours 
That we the rather by your intercession 
May from the apostolic see obtain. 
Thro' this most reverend Father, absolution, 
And full release from danger of all censures 
Of Holy Church that we be falFn into, 
So that we may, as children penitent, 
Be once again received into the bosom 
And unity of Universal Church ; 
And that this noble realm thro' after years 
May ill this unity and obedience 
Unto the holy see and reigniag Pope 
Serve God and both your Majesties. 
Voices. Amen, (all sit.) 

He again presents the petition to the Kino and Queen, tvho hani it reveren- 
tially to Pole. 

Polk {sitting). This is the loveliest day that ever smiled 
On England. All her breath should, incense like, 
Rise to the heavens in grateful praise of Him 
Who now recalls her to his ancient fold. 
" Lo ! once again God to this realm hath given 
" A token of His more especial grace ; 
" For as this people were tli€ first of all 
" The islands call'd into the dawning church 
" Out of the dead, deep night of heathendom, 
♦' So now are these the first whom God hath given 
" Grace to repent and sorrow for their schism ; 
'■' And if your penitence be not mockeiy, 
" Oh, how the blessed angels, who rejoice 
" Over one saved, do triumph at this hour 
" In the reborn salvation of a land 
" So noble." {a pause) 

For ourselves we do protest 
That our commission is to heal, not harm ; 
We come not to condemn, but reconcile ; 
We come not to compel, but call again ; 
We come not to destroy, but edify ; 
" Nor yet to question things already done ; 
" These are forgiven — inalters of the past — • 



64 QUEEN MART. [aCX III. 

" And rango wiLh jetsam and with ofial thrown 

" Into the blind sea of Ibrgetfidness. [a pmtse) 

" Ye have reversed tho attainder laid on us 

" By liim who sack'd the house of God ; and we, 

" Amplier tlian any field on our poor earth 

" Can render thanks in fruit for beincj sown, 

" Do here and now repay you sixty-fold 

" A hundred, yea, a thousand thousand-fold, 

" With heaven for earth." {rising and stretching forth h's hcncls. 

AU Jcticcl hut Bagenuall, who rises and remains standing with 

Jinnncss and digniti/') 

" The Lord who hath redeem'd \is 
" Witli his own blood, and wash'd us from our sins, 
" To purchase for Himself a stainless bride ; " 
Ho, v.'hom the Father hath appointed Head 
Of all His church, He by His mercy absolve you ! [ci pause) 
And we by that authority apostolic 
Given unto us, his Legate, by the Pope, 
" Our Lord and Holy Fatiier, Julius, 
" God's Vicar and Vicegerent upon earth," 
Do here absolve you and deliver you 
And every one of you, and all the realm 
And its dominions from all heresy, 
All schism, and from all and every censure, 
Judgment, and pain accruing thereupon ; 
And also we restore you to the bosom 
And unity of Universal Church, [turning to Gardiner) 
Our letters of commission will declare this plainlier. 

QvE-Eii heard sobbing. Cries 0/ " Amen ! Amen!" Some of the members 
embrace one another. All but Sib Ralpu Bagenhall pass out, u. and 
L. u. E., into the adjoining chapel^ whence is heard the Te Diuiii. 

Bag. (advancing, c). We strove against the papacy from the first, 
In William's time, in our first Edward's time, 
Aud in my master Henry's time ;* but now, 
The unity of Universal Church, 
Mary would have it; and this Gardiner follows; 
The unity of Universal Hell, 
Philip would have it ; and this Gardiner follows ! 
A Parliament of imitative apes ! 
Sheep at the 2ap which Gardiner takes, who not 
Believes the Pope, nor any of them believe — 
These spaniel-Spaniard English of tlie time. 
Who rub their fawning noses in the dust. 
For that is Philip's gold-dust, and adore 
This Vicar of their Vicar. Would I had been 
Born Spaniard ; I had held my head up then. 
I am ashamed that I am Bagenhall, 
English. 

JEnfer Officer, l. 1 e. 

Offichu. Sir Ralph Bagenhall. 

Bag. What of that? 

Officer. You were the one sole man in either house 

* .Ml tliese were Kings of England, who had conten-led niainr,t the Pope. 



ACT III.] QUEEN MARY. G5 

Who stood upright when both the houses fell. 
Bag. (biitcflij). The houses fell ! 
Officeu. I mean the houses Inielt 

Before the Legate. 
Bag. Bo not scrimp your phrase, 

But stretch it wider ; say when England fell. 
Officer. I say you were the one sole man who stood. 
Bag. I aiu the one sole man in either house, 

Perchance in England, loves her like a son. 
Opficeu. " Well, you one man," because you stood upright, 

Her Grace the Queen commands you to the Tower. 
Bag. [unmoved). As traitor, or as heretic, or for what? 
Officek. If any man in any waj' would be 

The one man he shall be so to his cost. 
Bag. What ! will she have my head ? 
Officer {stcrnhj). " A round fine likelier. 

" Your pardon." [beckons to Attenda>'T, icho enters, l. 1 r,.) 
By the river to the Tower. [Exeunt, l. 1 e. 

SCENE IV.* — TJliitehdU. A room in the palace. 
jMauy, Gardiner, Pole, Paget, Bonner, etc., discovered. 

Mary. The king and I, my Lords, now that all traitors 

Against our royal state iiave lost the heads 

Wherewitii they plotted in their treasonous malice, 

Have tallc'd together, and are well agreed 

That those old statutes touching Lollardisui 

T'o bring the lieretic to the stake, should bo 

No longer a dead letter, but requicken'd. 
One of the Council. Why, what hath fluster'd Gardiner ? how he 
rubs 

His forelock. 
Paget. I have changed a wofd witli him 

In coming, and may change a word a^am. 
Gaud. Madam, your Highness is our sun, the King 

And you together our two suns in one ; 

And so the beams of both may shine upon us. 

The faith that seem'd to dtoop will feel your light, 

Lift head, and flourish ; yet not light alone, 

There must be heat — there must be heat enough 

To scorcli and wither heresy to the root. 

For what sai;h Christ ? " Compel them to come in." 

And what saith Paul 1 "I would they were cue off 

That trouble you." Let the dead letter live ! 

* Id representation, the whole of this scene is to be omitted, and there is to be sub- 
stituted in its place the latter p.irt of the third Scene of Act IV , commencing willi 
that portion which atlndes to tlie numerous burnings of heretics, and gives an ac- 
count of the death of Cranmer, wliose arrest was one of the features of the First Act. 
The acting' version will therefore run thus : 

SCENE TV.-Thcimxhof St. Mary's church, Oxford. 

Enter, i>. 1 e., two Old Women— Joan, and after hn- Tib, 

and then proceed as marked at paa^e — . By this arrangement, time and space is al- 
lowed to make the Fifth Scene— Elizabeth's residence at Woodstock- one of the moat 
attractive and effective scenes in the play. 



G6 QUEEN MAKT. " [aCT III. 

Trace it in fire, tliat all the louts to whom 

Their A. B. 0. is darkness, clowns and grooms 

May read it ! so you quash rebellion too, 

For heretic and traitor are all one ; 

Jwo vipers of one breed — an amphisbuena, 

Each end a stinjj. Let the dead letter burn I 
Paget. Yet there he some disloyal Catholics, 

And many heretics loyal ; heretic tliroats 

Cried no God bless her ! to the Lady Jane, 

But shouted in Queen Alary. So there be 

Some traitor-heretic, there is axe and cord. 

To take the lives of others that are loyal, 

And by the churchman's pitiless doom of fire, 

Were but a thankless policy in the crown, 

Ay, and against itself; for there are many. 
Mary. If we could burn out heresy, my Lord Paget, 

We reck not tho' we lost this crown of England — 

Ay ! tho' it were ten Englands ! 
Gard. Right, your Grace. 

Paget, you are all for this poor life of ours, 

And care but little for the life to be, 
Paget. 1 have some time, for curiousness, my Lord, 

Watcli'd children playing at their life to be, 

And cruel at it, killing helpless flies; 

Such is our time — all times for aught I know. 
Gard, AVe kill the heretics that sling the soul — 

They, Avith right reason, flies that prick the flesh, 
Paget. They had not reach'd right reason ; little children ! 

They kill'd but for their pleasure and the power 

They felt in killing. 
Gard. A spice of Satan, ha ! 

Why, good ! what then ? granted — we are fallen creatures ; 

Look to your Bible, Paget ! we are fallen. 
Paget. I am but of the laity, my Lord Bishop, 

And may not read your Bible, yet I found 

One day, a wholesome scripture, " Little children, 

Love one another." 
Gard. Did you find a scripture, 

" I come not to bring peace but a sword V The sword 

Ls in her Grace's hand to smite with. Paget, 

You stand up here to fight for heresy. 

You are more than guess'd at as a heretic. 

And on the steep-up track of the true faith 

Your lapses are far seen. 
Paget. The faultless Gardiner ! 

Mary. You brawl beyond tlie question ; speak. Lord Legate. 
Pole. Indeed. I cannot follow with your Grace, 

Rather would say — the shepherd doth not kill 

The sheep that wander from his flock, but sends 

His careful dog to bring them to the fold. 

Look to the Netiierlands, wherein have been 

Such holocausts of heresy ! to what end 1 

For yet the faith is not establishcil there. 
Gard. The end's not come. 
Pole. No— nor this way will corae, 

Seeing there lie two ways to every end, 
A better and a worse — the worse is here 



ACT III.] QUKKK MARY. G7 

To persecute, because to persecute 

Makes a faith liated, and is furthermore 

No perfect witness of a perfect faith 

III him wlio persecutes ; when men are tost 

On tides of strange opinion, and not sure 

Of their own selves, they are wroth with their own selves, 

And thence with others ; then, who lights the fagot ? 

Not the full faith, no, but the lurking doubt. 

Old Rome, that first made martyrs in the church, 

Trembled for her own gods, for those were trembling — 

But when did our Rome tremble 1 
Paget. Did she not 

In Henry's time and Edward's 1 
Pole. What, my Lord ! 

The Church on Peter's rock 1 never ! I have seen 

A ])iiie in Italy that cast its shadow 

Athwart a cataract; firm stood the pine — 

Tlie cataract shook the shadow. To my mind, 

The cataract typed t!ie headlong plunge and fall 

Of heresy to the pit : the pine was Rome. 

You see, my Lords, 

It was the shadow of the Church that trembled ; 

Your church was but the shadow of a church, 
Wanting the triple mitre. 
Gaki>. {midterimj). Here be tropes. 

Pole. And tropes are good to clothe a naked truth, 

And make it look more seemly. 
Gard. Tropes again ! 

Pole. You are hard to please. Then without tropes, my Lord, 
An overmuch severeness, I repeat, 
When faith is wavering make the waverer pass 
Into more settled hatred of the doctrines 
Of those who rule, which hatred by and by 
Involves the ruler (thus there springs to light 
That Centaur of a monstrous Commonweal, 
The traitor-heretic) ; then tho' some may quail, 
Yet others are that dare the stake and fire. 
And their strong torment bravely borne, begets 
An admiration and an indignation. 
And hot desire to imitate ; so the ])lague 
Of schism spreads ; were there but three or four 
Of these misleaders, yet I would not say 
Burn ! and we cannot burn whole towns ; they are many, 
As my Lord Paget says. 

Gakd. Yet, my Lord Cardinal 

Pole. I am your Legate ; please you, let me finish. 
Methinks that under our Queen's regimen 
We might go softlier than with crimson rowel 
And streaming lash. When Herod-Henry first 
Began to batter at your English Church, 
This was the cause, and hence the judgment on her. 
She seethed with such adulteries, and the lives 
Of many amonc your churchmen were so foul 
That heaven wept and earth blush'd. I would adviso 
That we should tliorougiily cleanse tlie Church within 
Before these bitter slatutes be roquicken'd. 
So after that, wlien tho once more is seen 



88 QUEEN MARY. [aCT III. 

White as the light, tlie spotless bride of Christ, 

Like Christ hiiuself on Tabor, i)ossibly 

The Lutlieraii may be won to her aixam ; 

Till wlieii, my Lords, I counsel tolerance. 
Gard- What, if a mad dog bit your hand, my Lord, 

Would you not ciiop the bitten fmtier off. 

Lost your wiiole body should madden witli tlie poison 1 

I would not, were I Queen, tolerate the heretic, 

No, not an hour. The ruler of a land 

Is bounden by his power and place lo see 

His people be not poison'd. Tolerate them ! 

Why ] do they tolerate you 1 Nay, many of them 

Would burn— have burnt eacli other; call they not 

The one true faith a loathsome idol-worship 1 

Beware, Lord Legate, of a heavier crime 

Than heresy is itself; beware, I say, 

Lest men accuse you of indifference 

To all faiths, all religion ; for you know 

Right well that you yourself have been supposed 

Tainted with Luliierauisin in Italy. 
Pole [angered). But you, my Lord, beyond all supposition, 
In clear and open day were congruent 
AVith that vile Cranmer in the accursed lie 
Of good Queen Catherine's divoice — the spring 
Of all those evils that have flow'd upon us ; 
For you yourself have truckled to the tyrant, 
And done your best to bastardize our Queen, 
For which God's righteous judgment fell upon you 
In your five years of imprisonment, my Lord, 
Uniler young Edward. Who so bolster'd up 
The gross King's headship of the Church, or more 
Denied tlie Holy Father 1 
Gard. Ha! what! eh 1 

But you, my Lord, a polish'd gentleman, 
A bookman, flying from the heat and tussle, 
You lived among your vines and oranges. 
In your soft Italy yonder ! You were sent for, 
You were appeal'd to, but you still prelerr'd 
Your learned leisure. As for what I did, 
I suffor'd and repented. You, Lord Legate 
And Cardinal-Deacon, have not now to learn 
That e'en St. Peter in his time of fear 
Denied his Master, ay, and thrice, my Lord. 
Pole. But not for five and twenty j^ears, niy Lord. 
Gakd. Ha ! good ! it seems then I was sumrnoii'd hither 

But to be mock'd and baited. Speak, friend Bonner, 
And tell this learned Legate he lacks zeal. 
The Church's evil is not as the King's, 
Cannot be heal'd by stroking. The mad bite 
Must have the cautery — tell liim— and at once. 
What wouldst thou do hadst thou his power, thou 
That layest so long in heretic bonds with mel 
Wouldst thou not burn and blast them root and branch? 
Bonner. Ay, after you, my Lord. 
Gard. Nay, God's passion, before me ! speak. 
BoN. I am on fire until I see tliem flinie. 
Gard. Ay, the p.salm-singing weavers, cobblers, scum — 



A.CL' in.] 



QUKEN MAXIT. 



CO 



But this most noblo prince Platagenet, 
Our pood Queen's cousin — dallying over seas 
Even when liis brotliers, nay, his noble mothers, 
Head fell 

Pole. Peace, mad man ! 

Thou stirrest up a grief thou canst not fathom. 
Tlion Christian Bishop, thou Lord Chancellor 
Of England ! no more rein upon thine anger 
Tiian any child ! Thou mak'st me much ashamed 
'J'liat I was for a moment wroth at thee. 

Mary. I come for counsel and ye give me feuds, 

Like do^s that set to watch their master's gate. 

Fall, when the thief is e'en within the walls. 

To worrying one another. My Lord Chancellor, 

You have an old trick of offending us ; 

And but that you are art and part with us 

In purging heresy, well we might, for this 

Your violence and much roughness to the Legate, 

Have shut you from our counsels. Cousin Pole, 

You are fresh from brisihter lands. Retire with me. 

His highness and myself (so you allow us) 

Will let you learn in peace and privacy 

What power this cooler sun of England hath 

In breathing Godless vermin. And pray Heaven 

That you may see according to our sight. 

Come, cousin. ]Excunt, Queen and Pole, etc., c 

Gard. Pole has the Plantagenet face, 

But not the force made them our mightiest kings. 
Fine eyes — but melancholy, irresolute — 
A fine beard, Bonner, a veij' full fine beard. 
But a weak mouth, an indeterminate — ha? 

Bon. Well, a weak mouth, perchance. 

Gard. And not like thine 

To gorge a heretic whole, roasted or raw. 

Bon. I'd do my best, my Lord ; but yet the Legate 
Is here as Pope and master of the church, 
And if he go not with you 

Gakd. Tut, Master Bishop, 

Our bashful Legate, saw'st not how he fiush'd ? 
Touch him upon his own heretical talk, 
He'll burn a diocese to prove his orthodoxy. 
And let him call me truckler. In those times. 
Thou knowest we had to dodge, or duck, or die ; 
I kept my head for use of Holy Cliurch ; 
And see you, we shall have to dodge again. 
And let the Pope trample our rights, and plunge 
His foreign fist into our island church 
Ta plump the leaner pouch of Italy. 
For a time, for a time. 

Why ? that these statutes may be put in force, 
And that his fan may thoroug'hly purge his floor. 

Bon. So then you hold the Pope 

Gard. I hold the Pope ! 

What do I hold him 1 what do I hold the Popel 
Come, come, the morsel stuck— this Cardinal's fault— 
I have gulped it down. I am wholly for the Pope, 
Utterly and altogether for the Pope, 



70 QUEEN MAKY. [aCT III. 

The Eternal Peter of tlie changeless chair, 
Crown'd slave of slaves, and mitred king of kings, 
God upon earth ! what more 1 what would you have ? 
Hence, let's be gone. 

Enter Usher. 

Usher. Well that you be not gone, 

My Lord. The Queen, most wroth at first with you. 
Is now content to grant you full forgiveness, 
So that you crave full pardon of the Legate. 
I am sent to fetch you. 

Gard. Doth Pole yield, sir, ha ! 

Did you hear 'em ] were you by 1 

Usher. I cannot tell you, 
His bearing is so courtly-delicate : 
And yet niethinks he falters : their two Graces 
Do so dear-cousin and royal-cousin him. 
So press on him the duty which as Legate 
He owes himself, and with such royal smiles 

Gard. Smiles that burn men. Bonner, it will be carried. 
He falters, ha 1 'fore God we change and chan<;e ; 
Men now are bow'd and old, the doctors tell you. 
At threescore years ; then if we change at all 
We needs must do it quickly ; it is an age 
Of brief life, and brief purpose, and brief patience. 
As I have shown to-day. I am sorry for it 
If Pole be like to turn. Our old friend Cranmer, 
Your more especial love, hath turn'd so often, 
He knows not where he stands, which, if this pass, 
We two shall have to teach him ; let 'em look to it, 
Cianmer and Hooper, Ridley and Latimer, 
Rogers and Ferrar, for their time is come, 
Tlieir hour is hard at hand, their " dies Irse," 
Their " dies Ilia," which will teat their sect, 
I feel it but a duty — you will find in it 
Pleasure as well as duty, worthy Bonner — 
To test their sect. Sir, I attend the Queen 
To crave most humble pardon — of her most 
Royal, Infallible, Papal Legate-cousin. [Exeunt. 

SCENE Y.— Woodstock * 

Elizabeth and Lady-in-Waiting discovered. Elizabeth reclining on 
couch, R., the Lady near the open window. 

Lady. The colors of our Queen are green and white. 

These fields are only green, they make me gape. 

Er.iz. {rising, and going to ivindoiv). There's whitethorn, girl. 

Lady. Ay, for an hour in May. 

But court is always May, buds out in masks, 

* A town in the county of Oxford, where the Queen had a palace to which, upon 
the breakin<» up of Wyatt's rebellion, the Princess Elizabeth was sent for safe keep- 
ing under tlie care of a rough but kind hearted gentleman, Sir Henry Bedinglield, 
— (really attached to her cause)— Mary not daring to send her to the Tower for fear 
of offending the people, with whom Elizabeth was a great favorite. At the same 
time Courtenay was sent to Fotheringay Castle, in the county of Northampton. 



A.CT III.] QUEEN MARX. 71 

Breaks into featlierd merriments, and flowers 
In silken pageants. Wliy do tiiey keep us here 1 
Why still suspect your Grace ! 
Eliz. Hard upon both, {ivrites on the 

window li., with a diamond:) 
Much suspected, of me 
Nothing proven can be, 

Q,uoth Ehzabeth, prisoner. 

Lady. What hath your Highness written ? 

Eliz. A true rhyme. 

Lady. Cut with a diamoud ; so to last like truth. 

Eliz. Ay, if truth last. 

Lady. But truth, they say, will out, 

So it must last. It is not like a word, 

That comes and goes in utterinjj. 
Eliz. Truth, a word ! 

The very truth and very word are one. 

But truth of story, which I glanced at, girl, 

Is like a word that conies from olden days. 

And passes thro' the peoples : every tongue 

Alters it passing, till it spells and speaks 

Quite other than at first. 
Lady. I do not follow. 

Eliz. How many names in the long sweep of time 

That so foreshortens greatness, may but hang 

On the chance mention of some fool that once 

Break bread with us, perhaps; and my poor chronicle 

Is but of glass. Sir Henry Bedlngfleld 

May split it for spite. 
Lady. God grant it last, 

And witness to your Grace's innocence. 

Till doomsday melt it. 
Eliz. Or a second fire. 

Like that which lately crackled underfoot 

And in this very chamber, fuse the glass, 

And char us back again into the dust 

We spring from. Never peacock against rain 

Scream'd as you did for water. 
Lady. And I got it. 

I woke Sir Henry — and he's true to you — 

I read his honest horror in his eyes. 
Eliz. Or true to you 1 
Lady. Sir Henry Bedingfield ! 

I will have no man true to me, your Grace, 

But one that pares his nails ; to me 1 the clown ! 

For, like his cloak, his manners want the nap 

And gloss of court ; but of this fire he says, 

Nay, swears, it was no wicked wilfulness, 

Only a natural chance. 
Eliz. A chance — perchance 

One of those wicked wilfuls that men make, 

Nor shame to call it nature. Nay, I know 

They hunt my blood. Save for my daily range 

Among the pleasant field of Holy Writ, ^ 

I might despair. But there hath some one tome; 

The house is all in movement. Hence, and lee. 

[EkH Lady, l. 1 e. 



72 QUEEN MART. [aCT III. 

Elizabeth seats herself near the window, and dtirinff the song expresses, by 
action, her interest in, and deligh t experienced by, the melody. 

Milkmaid {singing without). 

Shame upon you, Robin, 

Shame upon you now 1 
Kiss me would you .' with my hands 

Milking the cow ? 

Daisies grow again, 

Kingcups blow again, 
And you came and kiss'd me milking the cow, 

Robin came behind me, 

Kiss'd me well, I vow ; 
Cuff him could I ? with my hands 

Milking the cow .' 

Swallows fly again, 

Cuckoos cry again, 
And you came and kiss'd me milking the cow. 

Come, Robin, Robin, 

Come and kiss me now ; 
Help it can I .' with my handa 

Milking the cow .' 

Ringdove i coo again. 

All things woo again, 
Come behind and kiss me milking the cow. 

Eliz. {rising and advancing). Right honest and red-cheek'd ; Robin 
was violent, 
And she was crafiy — a sweet violence, 
And a sweet craft, {sweetly) I would I were a milkmaid 
To sing, love, marry, churn, brew, bake, and die, 
Then have my simple headstone by the church, 
And all things lived and ended honestly. 
I could not if I would, {proudly) I am Harry's dauglitei 
Gardiner would have my head. They are not sweet, 
The violence and the craft that do divide 
The world of nature ; what is weak must lie; 
The lion needs but roar to guard his young ; 
The lapwing lies, says " h^re " when they are theie. 
Threaten the child ; " I'll scourge you if you did it." 
What weapon hath the child, save his soft tongue, 
To say " I did not " 1 and ray rod's the block. 
I never lay my head upon the pillow 
But that I think, " Wilt thou lie there to-morrow 1 " 
How oft the falling axe, that never fell. 
Hath shock'd me back into the daylight truth 
That it may fall to-day ! Those damp, black, dead 
Nights in the Tower ; dead — with the fear of death — 
Too dead e'en for a death-watch ! Toll of a bell, 
Stroke of a clock, the scurrying of a rat 
Affrighted me, and then delighted me. 
For there was life — And there was life in death — 
The little murder'd princes,'*' in a pale light, 
Rose hand in liand, and whisper 'd, " Come away ; 
The civil wars are gone forevermore : 
Thou last of all the Tudors, come away — 

* Alluding to the two sons of King Edward IV., who, by order of their uncle 
Richard III., were imprisoned in the Tower, and there smothered and the bodie 
buried deep in the ground at the foot ot the stairs leading to their chamber. 



ACT in.] Quia'N MAiir. 73 

AVith us is peace ! " Tlielasti It was a dream ; 

I must not dream, not wink, but watch. She has gone, {looking- 

oid of window) 
Maid Marian to her Robin — by-and-by 
Both happy ! a fox may filch a hen by night, 
ind make a morning outcry in the yard ; 
But tliere's no Renard here to "catch her tripping." 
" Catch me who can ; yet, sometime I have wish'd 
" That I were caught, and kill'd away at once 
" Out of the flutter. Tlie gray rogue, Gardiner, 
" Went on his knees, and pray'd me to confess 
" In Wyatt's business, and to cast myself 
" Upon the good Queen's mercy ; ay, when, my Lord 1 
" God save the Queen." My jailer 

Enter Sir Henry Bedingfield, with letter, l 1 e. 

. Bedingfield. One, whose bolts. 

That jail you from free life, bar you from death. 

There haunt some Papist ruffians hereabouts 

Would murder you. 
Eliz. (^advancing c). I thank you heartily, sir, 

]5ut I am royal, tho' your j^risoner, 

And God hath blest or cursed me with a nose — 

Your boots are from tlie horses. 
Bedtng. {brusquely). Ay, my Lady. 

When next tliere comes a missive from the Queen 

It shall be all my study for one hour 

To I'ose and lavender my horsiness, 

Before I dare to glance upon your Grace. 
Eliz. A missive from the Queen : last time she wrote 

I had like to have lost my life : it takes my breath : 

God, sir, do you look upon your boots. 

Are you so sma^JI a man 1 Help me : what think you. 

Is it life or death ? 
Beding. I thought not on my boots ; 

The devil take all boots were ever made 

Since man went barefoot. See, I lay it here, 

For I will come no nearer to your Grace ; {laying down the letter 
on table, l.) 

And whether it bring you bitter news or sweet, 

And God have given your Grace a nose, or not, 

I'll help you, if I may. 
Eliz. Your pardon, then 1 

It is the heat and narrowness of the cage 

That makes the captive testy ; with free wing 

The world wereall one Araby. Leave me now, 

Will you, companion to myself, sir 1 
Bkding. W\\\11 

With most exceeding willingness I will ; 

You know I never come until I be call'd. [Exit, l. 1 e. 

Eliz. (c). It lies tliere folded ; is there venom in it 1 

A snake — and if I touch it, it may sting. 

Come, come, the worst ! 

Best wisdom is to know t'le worst at once, (lakes up Utter and 
reads) 
" It is the King's wish that you should wed Prince Philibert of Savoy. 



74 QCKEN JIAUV. [act III. 

You are to come to Court on the instant ; and think of this in your com- 
ing. " MaUY THE QUEEX." 

{after a pause, then advancing c.) Think ! I havo many tlioughts ; 

I think there may be birdlime here for mo ; 

I tliink tliey fain would have me from tlie realm ; 

I think the Queen may never bear a cliiid ; 

I tliink that 1 may be sometime the Queen, 

Then QiitnMi in(I(?ed; no foreign prince or priest 

Slioulil fill my throne, myself upon the steps. 

1 think 1 will not marry any one, 

Specially not this landless Pliilibort 

Of Savoy ; but, if Philip menace mo, 

I think iliat 1 will [(lay with Philibert — 

As once the Holy Father did with mine, 

Before my father married my good mother, — 

For fear of Spain. 

Re-enter Lapy, l. 1 h. 

Lady. " Lord ! your Grace, your Grace," 

I feci so hai)py ; it seems that wo shall (ly 

These bald, blank holds, and dance into the sua 

That shines on princes. 
Eliz. Yet, a moment since, 

I wish'd myself the milkmaid sinking here, 

To kiss and cull" among the birds and (lowers — 

A right rougli life and healthful. 
Lady. But the wench 

Hath her own trouble:! ; she' is weeping now; 

For the wrong Robin took her at her word. 

Then the cow kick'd, and all her milk was spilt. 

Your Highness such a milkmaid 1 
Eliz. I had kept 

My Robins and my cows in sweeter ordci" 

Had I been such. 
Lady (ulylij). And had your Grace a Robin. 

Eliz. Come, come, you are chill here; you want the sun 

That shines at corrt ; make ready for the journey. 

Pray God wo 'scape the sunstroke. Ready at once. 

[Exeunt, L. 1 E. 

SCENE VI.* — London. A room in the palace. 
Enter Loud Petke, and Lord Willia:\i Howard, l. 1 e. 

Pbtre. You cannot see the Queen. Renard denied her 

E'en now to me. 
Howard. Their Flemish go-between 

And all-in-all. I came to ihaiik lier Majesty 

For freeing my friend Bageidiall from the Tower ; 

A grace to \\u\ ]\Icrcy, that herb-of-grace, 

Flowers now but seldom. 
Petre. Only now perhaps. 

Because the Queen hutli been three days in tears 



* This scone oau be omitted if desired, and the Act terminate with Eliaabeth'a de- 
parture. 



ACT III. J QUKKN MART. 76 

For riiilip's going — " like tho wild liedge-rose 
" Of a soil winter, possible, nut probable, 
*' However, you have prov'ii it." 
Howard. I must see her. 

Enter Renard, r. 1 e. 

Ri;n. My Lords, you cannot see her Majesty. 

HowAKo, Why then tho King ; for I would liave him bring it 
Homo to the leisure wisdom of his Queen, 
Befoie he go, that since these stiiliilcs past, 
Gardiner out-Qardiners Gardiner in liis heat, 
Bonner cannot ouL-Bonner his own scdf — 
Beast ! — but they play wilh fire as children do, 
And burn the house. T know that these are breeding 
A fierce resolve and fixt heart-hate in men 
Against the King, the Queen, the Holy Father, 
The faith itself. Can I not see him 1 

Ken. Not now. 

And in all this, my Lord, her Majesty 
Ls flint of flint, you in ly strike fire from her, 
Not hope to melt lu-r. I will give your message. 

Exeunt Petiih and Howaiid, l. 1 k., followed hi/ Rf.naud, xvho prtn.srs ai 
the entrance. 

Enter PuiLip, R. c, mnsuig, and ivallcinff slow!// d./wn the t:t::jc. 

Piiiri. (c). She will not have Prince Philibert of Savoy. 
I talk'd with her in vain — says she will live 
And die true maid — a goodly creature too. 
Would she had been the Queen ! yet she must have lii:\i , 
She troubles England ; that she breathes in Englai:d 
Is life and lungs to every rebel birth 
That passes out of embryo, [ohscrvin;/ Renard) 

Simon Renard ! 
This Howard, whom tliey fear, what was ho saying 1 

Ren. {advancing, l. c). What your nnjierial father said, my lio,;c. 
To deal with heresy gentler. Gardiner burns, 
And Bomier burns ; and it would seem tliis peoi)]o 
Care more for our brief life in their wet land. 
Than yours in happier Spain. I told my Lord 
He should not vex her Highness ; she would say 
These are tho means God works with, that His cliurc!i 
May flourish. 

Pun,. Ay, sir, but in statesmanship 

To strike too soon is oft to miss tho blow. 
Tliou kno\v<!st 1 bade my chaplain, Castro, preacTi 
Against these burnings. 

Ren. And the Emperor 

Approved you, and when last ho wrote, declaiod 
Jlis comfort in your Grace that you wcro bland 
And affable to men of all estates. 
In hope to charm them from their hate of Sp:i:ii. 

PiiiL. In hope to cru^h all heresy under Spiin. 
But, Renai'd, 1 a^u sii^ker stayiu'^ hero 
Than any «"a co.il I make mo passing henco, 



76 QUEEN MART. [aCX III. 

Tho' I bo ever doadly sick at sea. 

So sick am I wiLli biding lor tliis child.* 

" Is it tlie fashion of tliis dime for women 

" To go twelve months iu bearing "fa child V 

The nurses yawn'd, the cradle eai)'d, they led 

Processions, chanted litanies, clasli'd their bells, 

Shot off Uieir lying cannon, and her priests 

Have preaclrd, the fools, of this fair prince to come, 

Till, by St. James, I find myself the fool. 

Why do you lift your eyebrow at me thus 1 
Re\. I never saw your Highness moved till now. 
" Phil. So weary am I of this wet lan'd of theirs, 

" And every soul of man that breathes therein, 
" Ren. My liege," we must not drop the mask before 

The masquerade is over 

PuiL. Have I dropt it 1 

I have but shown a loathing face to you, 

Who knew it from the first. 

Enter Mary, u. c. — she pauses. 

Mauy (aside). With Renard. (sorrotv/idlij) SliW 

Parleying with Renard, all the day with llcnard. 
And scarce a greeting all the day for me — 
And goes to-morrow. [ExifSlAnx, l. c. 

PuiL. {(o Renakd, tv/io advaiices to him). Well, sir, io there more 1 

Ren. {who bij gesture shows thai he has perceived (he Qdeen). May >j jnoii 
Renard speak a single word 1 

PniL. Ay. 

Ren. And be forgiven for it? 

PuiL. Simon Renard 

Knows me too well to speak a single word 
That could not be forgiven. 

Ren. Well, my liege. 

Your Grace bath a most chaste and loving wife. 

PniL. Why not 1 The Queen of Philip should be chaste. 

Ren. Ay ! but, my Lord, you know what Virgil sings, 
Woman is various and most mutable. 

Phil. She play the harlot ! never ! 

Ren. No, sire I no, 

Not dream'd of by the rabidest gospeller. 
There was a paper thrown into the palace, 
" The King hath wearied of his barren bride." 
She came upon it, read it, and then rent it. 
With all tlie rage of one who hates a truth 
He cannot but allow. Sire, I would have you — 
What should I say 1 I cannot pick ray words — 

* It was a source of the most extreme trouble and anguish to Miry (lia'. llicro 
appeared to be little probability of ber having issue of her laarriage. Fearful of 
losing? her husband's love she continually led liim to believe tliat the long-looked lor 
event was about to tako place, and preparations for it were constantly being made, 
but wilh no good result. Tliis was (greatly to tlio satisfaction of her enemies, wl;o 
saw by such failure of issue the end of the Spanish rule and the accession of Eliza- 
beth to the throne. To heighten as much as possible Mary's misery, little scraps of 
X);ipcr containing insulting sentences were dropped all over the palace, wherever she 
was likely to walk, even in her private ciiamber. This failure of issue pioilucod in 
Philip coldness and dislike, the conspquence of which was that tho latter part of her 
reign was as miserable! es can well be imagined. 



ACT III.] QUEKN MAllY, 7" 

Bo somewliat less — majestic to your Queen, 
PiiiL. {testily). Am I to change luy nianuers, Simon Renard, 

Because llieso islanders are brutal beasts 1 

Or would you have me turn a sonneteer, 

And warble those brlef-sightud eyes j^f liens 1 
Ren. Brief-sj;i!ited tho' they be, I have seen tlieai, sire, 

When you perchance were trifling royally 

AViLh some fair dame of court, suddenly fill 

With such fierce fire — had it been tiro indeed 

It would have burnt botli speakers. 
Phil. Ay, and then 1 

Re\. Sire, misht it not be policy in some matter 

Of small importance now and then to cede 

A point to her demand 1 
Vmu. Well, I am going. 

Reu. For should her love when you are gone, my liege, 

Witness these papers, there will not be wanting 

Those that will urge her injury — should her love — 

And I have known such women more than one — 

Veer to the counterpoint, and jealousy 

Hath in it an alchen)ic force to fuse 

Almost into one metal love and hate — 

And she impress her wrongs upt)n her Council, 

And these again upon her Parliament — 

Wo are not loved here, and would be then perhaps 

Not so well holpen in our wars with France, 

As else we might be — here she comes. 

ILe moves aside, and loith an ohcisancc retires tep the stage, l., as Mahy 
enters, l. c. 

Mary {advancing qnicJdij and (iffcctionatehj). Philip I 

Nay, must you go indeed ! 
PmXi. {ro.'dlg). Madam, I must. 

Maiiy. The parting of a husband and a wife 

To like the cleaving of a heart ; one half 

Will flutter here, one there. 
PniL. You say true, madam. 

" Mai-.y. The Holy Virgin will not have me yet 

" Lose Ihe sweet hope that I may bear a prince. 

" If such a prince were born and you not here ! 
" Phil. I should be here if such a prince were born." 
Maiiy. Bat must you go 1 
PiiiL. Madam, you know iny father, 

Retiring into cloistral solitude 

To yield the remnant of his years to Heaven, 

Will shift the yoke and weight of all the world 

From off his neck to mine. We meet at Brussels. 

Cut since mine absence will not be for long. 

Your Majesty shall go to Dover with me, 

And wait my coming back. 
" Maky. To Dover ? no, 

" I am too feeble. I will go to Greenwich, 

" So you will have me with you ; and there watch 
^ " All that is gracious in the breath of Heaven 

" Draw with j'our sails from our poor land, and ]ns3 

" And leave me, Philip, with my prayers for you. 



78 QUEEN MAUr. [aCT IV. 

" Phil. And doubtless I shall profit by j'our prayers." 
Maky {appealing affectionately). Metliiuks that would you tarry one (by 
more 

(The news was sudden) I could mould myself 

To bear your ftoiyg better; will you do it? 
Phil. Madam, a day may sink or save a realm. 
Mary. A day may save a heart from breakin:? too. 
Phil. Well, Simon Renard, shall we stop a day? 
Ren. {advancing — craftily). Your Grace's business will not suffer, siro, 

For one day more, so far as I can tell. 
Phil. Then one day more to please her Majesty. 
Maky. The sunshine sweeps across my life again. 

if I knew you felt this parting, Philip, 
As I do ! 

Phil. By St. James, I do protest, 

Upon the faith and honor of a Spaniard, 

1 am vastly grieved to leave your Majesty. 
{coldly) Simon, is supper ready 1 

Ren. Ay, my liege ; 

I saw the covers laying. 
PniL. {coldly and sternly). Let us have it. 

Picture — Renaud, smiling sardonically and eying keenly Philip and Mart, 
moving off towarcU c. d., hut pausing midway ; Philip, cold and impas- 
sice, c. / Mary gently and timidly resting her hand on his arm and gaz- 
ing lovingly mid anxiously in his face. 



ACT IV.* 
SCENE I. — A room in the palace. 
Map.y and Cardinal Pole discovered. 

Mart. VVh.it have you there 1 

Pole. So please your Majesty, 

A long petition from the foreign exiles 
To spare the life of Cranmer. Bishop Thirlby, 
And my Lord Paget and Lord AVilliaui Howard, 
Crave, in the same cause, hearing of your Grace. 
Hath he not written himself — infatuated — 
To sue for iiis life ? 

Maky. His life 1 Oli, no ; 

Not sued for that — he knows it were in vain. 
But so much of the anti-i)apal leaven 
^V^orks in him yet, he hath i)ray'd me not to sully 
I\Iine own prerogative, and degrade the realm 
By seeking justice at a stranger's hand 
Against my natural subject. King and Queen, 
To whom he owes his loyalty after God, 

* The whole of this Act is to be omitted in representation, exoeptinr? tlie hitter 
portion of tlio last scjno, coinmonoins? with the entry of the two old women, Joan 
and lib, wliicli is, as previously directed, to be transferreci to the Third Act, to 
form t!ie fourth scene of tliat Act. 



ACT IV.] CIUEE]S^ MAUY. 79 

Shall tliORc accuse him to a foreign prince 1 

Death wimkl not grieve him more. I cannot be 

True to this realm of Enirland and the Pope 

Together, says the heretic. 
Pole. And there errs ; 

As he Lath ever err'd thro' vanity. 

A secular kingdom is but as the body 

Lacking a soul ; and in itself a beast. 

Tlie Holy Fatiier in a secular kingdom 

Is as the soul descending out of heaven 

Into a body generate. 
Mary. Write to him, then. 

Pole. I will. 

Mary. And sharply, Pole. 
Pole. Here come the Crannierites ! 

Enter Tuirlby, Lokd Paget, rt«i Lord William Howard. 

IIowAiiD. Health to your Grace. Good-raorrow, my Lord Cardinal ; 

We make our humble prayer unto your Graca 

That Cranmer may withdraw to foreign parts, 

Oi' into private life witiiin the realm. 

In several bills and declarations, madam, 

He halh recanted all his heresies. 
Paget (aside). Ay, ay ! if Bonner have not forged the bills. 
Mary. Did not More die, and Fisher ? he must burn. 
Howard. He hath recanted, madam. 
Mary. The better for liim. 

He burns in purgatory, not in hell. 
Howard. Ay, ay, your Grace; but it was never seen 

Tliat any one recanting thus at full, 

As Cranmer hath, came to the fire on earth. 
Mary. It v/iU be seen now, then. 
Tuirl. 0, madam ! madam 1 

I thus implore you, low upon my knees, 

To reach the hand of mercy to my friend. 

I have err'd with him ; witii him I have recanted. 

What human reason is there why my friend t 

Sliould meet with lessor mercy than myself? 
JIary. My Lord of Ely, this. After a riot 

We liang tlie leaders, let their following go. 

Craumer is head and father of these heresies, 

New learning as tliey call it ; yea, may God 

Forget me at most need when I forget 

Her foul divorce — my sainted mother — no ! 
Howaud. Ay, ay ! but miglity doctors doubted there. 

The Pope himself waver'd ; and more than one 

Row'd iii tliat galley — Gardiner to wit, 

AVhora truly I deny not to have been 

Your faithful friend and trustj' councillor. 

Hath not j'our Highness ever read Ids book, 

His tractate upon True Obedience, 

Writ by himself and Bonner. 
Mart. I will take 

Such order witli all bad, heretical books 

Tliat none shall hold them in his house and live, 

Henceforward. No, my Lord. 



80 QUEEN MAKY. [.VCt If. 

Howard. Then never read it. 

The truth is here. Your father was a man 

Of such colossal kinghood, yet so courteous, 

Except when wroth, you scarce could meet his eye 

And hold your own ; and were he wroth indeed, 

You held it less, or not at all. 1 say, 

Your father had a will that beat men down ; 

Your father had a brain that beat men down 

Pole. Not me, my Lord. 

Howard. No, for you were not here ; 

You sit upon this fallen Cranmer's throne ; 

And it would more become you, my Lord Legate, 

To join a voice, so potent with her tlighness, 

To ours in i)lea for Cranmer than to stand 

On naked self-assertion. 
Mary. All your voices 

Are waves on flint. The heretic must burn. 
Howard. Yet once he saved your Majesty's own life ; 

Stood out against the King in your behalf, 

At his own peril. 
Mary. I know not if he did ; 

And if he did I care not, my Lord Howard. 

My life is not so happy, no such boon. 

That I should spare to take a heretic priest's. 

Who saved it or not saved. Why do you vex me 1 
Paget. Yet to save Cranmer were to save the Church, 

Your Majesty's I mean ; he is effaced, 

Self-bloLted out; so wounded in his honor, 

He can but creep down into some dark hole 

Like a hurt beast, and hide himself and die ; 

But if you burn him — well, your Highness knows 

The saying — " Martyr's blood — seed of the church." 
Mary. Of the true church ; but his is none, nor will be. 

You are too politic for nie, my Lord Paget. 

And if he have to live so loath'd a life, 

It were more merciful to burn him now. 
Thirl. O yet relent. O, madam, if you knew him 

As I do, ever gentle, and so gracious, 

With all his learning 

Mary. Yet a heretic still. 

His learning makes his burning the more just. 
Thirl. Soworshipt of all those that came across him ; 

The stranger at his hearth, and ail his liouse 

Mary. His children and his concubine, belike. * 

TuiRL. To do him any wrong was to beget 

A kindness from him, for his heart was i"icli. 

Of such line mould, tliat if you sow'd therein 

The seed of hate, it blossom'd charity. 
Pole. " After his kind it ciists him nothing," there's 

An old world Etiglish ada.'e to the point. 

These are but natural graces, my good Bishop, 

Which in the Catholic garden are as flowers, 

But on the heretic dunghill only weeds. 
Howard. Such weeds make dunghills gracious. 
Mary. Enough, my Lords. 

It is God's will, the Holy Father's will, 

And Philip's will, and mine, that he should burn. 



ACT IV.] QUEEN MAKT. 81 

He is pronounced anathema, 
Howard. Farewell, nmdam, 

God grant you ampler mercy at your call 

Than you have shown to Cranmer. [Exeunt Lokd.s. 

Pole. After this, 

Your Grace will hardly care to overlook 

Tliis same petition of the foreign exiles, 

i''or Cranmer "s life. 
Mary. Make out the writ to night. [Eurnni. 

SCENE II. — Oxford. — Cranmer in pi-ison. 

Cran. Last night I dreara'd the fa:;ots were alight, 
And that my^f was fasteii'd to the stake, 
And found it all a visionary flame, 
Cool as the light in old decaying wood ; 
And then King Hurry look'd from out a cloud, 
And bade me have good courage ; and I heaid 
An angel cry, "There is more joy in heaven." — 
And after that, the trumpet of the dead, (trumpets w't'io-.if) 
Why, there are trumpets blowing now! what is it i 

Enter Father Cole. 

Cole. Cranmer, I come to question you again ; 

Have you remained in the true Catholic faith 

I left you in 1 
Cran. In the true Catholic faith, 

By Heaven's grace, I am more and more confirm'J. 

Wijy are the trumpets blowing, Father Colel 
Cole. Cranmer, it is decided by the Council 

Tliat you to-day should read your recantation 

Before the people in St. Mary's churcli. 

And tiiere be many heretics in the town, 

Who loathe you for your late return to Rome, 

And might assail you passing through the stie?t. 

And tear you peacemeal ; so you have a guard. 
Cran. Or seek to rescue me. I thanif the Council. 
Cole. Do you lack any money 1 
Cran. Nay, why should 1 1 

The prison fare is good enough for me. 
Cole. Ay ! but to give the poor. 
Cran. Hand it to me, then ! 

I thank you. 
CoLR. For a little space, farewell ! 

Until I see you in St. Mary's church. [Exit Chle. 

CiiAN. It is against all precedent to burn 

One wlio recants; they mean to pardon me. 

To give the poor — they give the poor who die. 

Well, burn nis or not burn me, I am fixt ; 

It is but a communion, not a mass : 

A iioly supper, not a sacrifice ; 

No man can mal;e his Maker— Villa Garcia. 

E)i!er 'Villa Garcia. 
Garcia. Pray you write out this paper for me, Cranmer. 



2 QUEEN MAKY. [\CV iV. 

CiiAN. Have I not writ enough to satisfy you 1 
Garcia. It is tiie last. 

Chan Give it me, then, (he writes.) 

Gaiicia. Now sign. 

Cran. 1 have sigu'd enough, and I will sisn no more. 
Garcia. It is no more than what you have sign'd already, 

The public form thereof. 
Cran. It may be so ; 

I siLTn it with my presence, if I read it. 
Gaiicia. Bat this is idle of you. Well, sir, well, 

You are to be^ the people to pray for you ; 

Exhoit tliom to a ])ure and virtuous Hie ; 

Declare the Queen's right to the throne ; confess 

Your faith before all hearers ; and retract 

Tliat Eucharistic doctrine in your book. 

AVill you not sign it now 1 
Cran, No Villa Garcia, 

I si^n no more. 'Will they have mercy on me ? 
Garcia. Have you good hopes of mercy ! So, farewell. [Exit, 

Cran. Good hopes, not theirs, have I that I am fixt, 

Fixt beyond fall ; however, in strange hours, 

After the long brain-dazzling colloquies. 

And thousand times recurring ai'gument 

Of those two friars ever in my prison. 

When left alone in my despondency. 

Without a friend, a book, my faith would seem 

Dead or half-drown'd, or else swam heavily 

Against the huge corruptions of the church, 

Monsters of nn'stradition, old enough 

To scare me into dreaming, " what am I, 

Cranmer, against whole ages V was it so, 

Or am T slandeyng my most inward friend, 

To veil the fault of my most outward foe — 

The soft and tremulous coward in the flesh"? 

higher, holier, e.M-lier, purer church, 

1 have found thee and not leave tliee any more. 
It is but a communion, not a mass — 

No sacrifice, but a life-giving feast ! {writes) 

So, so ; this will I say — thus will I pray, {puts up the paper.) 

Enter Bonner. 

Bon. Good-day. old friend ; what, you look somewhat worn : 
And yet it is a day to lest your health 
E'en at Jie best : I scarce have spoken with you 
Since when ? — your degradation. At your trial 
Never stood up a bolder man than you ; 
You would not cap the Popes commissioner — 
Your learning, and your stoutness, and j'our heresy, 
Dumbfounded half of us. So, after that, 
We had to dis-archbishop and unlord, 
And make you simple Ci-aniner once again, 
Tlie common barber dipt your hair, and I 
Scraped from your finger-points the holy oil ; 
And worse than all, you had to kneel to mc : 
Which was not, plea^ant for ycu, Maslev Crfiiiu;-. ;■. 
Now vou. that would not recognize the Pomo, 



ACT IV. j QUEEN MART. J 

And you, tliat would not own the Real Presence, 

Have found a real presence in the stake, 

Which fiiglits you hack into the ancient faitli ; 

And so you have recanted to the Pope. 

How are the mighty fallen, Master Cranmer ? 
Ckan. You have heen more fierce against tlie Pope than I ; 

Pjut why fling back tiie stone he strike-s me with"? {aside) 

0, Bonner ! if I ever did you kindness — 

Power hath been given you to try faith by fire — 

Pray you, remembering how yourself have changed. 

Be somewhat pitiful, after I have gone. 

To the ])Oor flock — to women and to children — 

That wlien I was archbisliop held with me. 
Bon. Ay — gentle as they call you — live or die I 

Pitiful to this pitiful heresy 1 

I must obey the Queen and Council, man. 

Win thro' this day with honor to yourself. 

And I'll say something for you — so — good-by. [Hxit. 

CuAN. This hard, coarse man of ohl hath crouch'd to me 

Till I myself was half ashamed for him. 

Unicr Thiklby. 

Weep not, good Thirlby. 
TniRL. Oh, my Lord, ray Lord ! 

My heart is no such block as Bonner's is ; 

Who would not weep 1 
Ckan. Wliy do you so my-lord me, 

Who am disgraced 1 
TuiEL. On earth ; but saved in heaven 

By your recanting. 
Cran. Will they burn me, Thirlby 1 

TniRL. Alas, they will I these bunnngs will not help 

The purpose of the faith ; but my poor voice 

Against them is a whisper to the roar 

Of a spring- tide. 
Cran. And tliey Avill surely burn met 

TuiRL. Ay; and besides, will have you in the church 

Repeat your incantation in the ears 

Of all men, to the saving of their souls, 

Before your execution. May God help you 

Thro' that bard hour. 
Chan. And may God bless you, Thirlby. 

W^ell, they shall hear my recantation there. [Uzil Thirlby. 

Disgraced, dishonor'd! — not by them, Indeed, 

By mine own self — by mine own hand! 

tliin-skinn'd hand and jutting veins, 'twas you 

That sign'd the burning of poor Joan of Kent ; 

But then she Avas a witch. You have written much, 

But you were never raised to plead for Frith, 

AVi'iose dogmas I have reach'd ; he was deliver'd 

To the secular arm to buin ; and there was Lambert ; 

Who can foresee himself? truly, these burnings. 

As Thirlby says, are profitless to the burners. 

And help the other side. You shall burn too, 

Burn first when I am burnt. 



Fire — inch by inch to die in agony ! Latimer 



84 Q-jrrx v.xnw [act iv. 

Had a brief end — net Ridley. Hooper burn'd 

Three-quarters of an liour. Will my fagots 

Be wet as hiy were ? It is a day of rain. 

I will not rau.^e upon it. 

My f;nicy takes the burner's part, and makes' 

Tlie fire seem even crueller than it is. 

No, I not doubt that God will give me strength, 

Albeit I have denied Him. 

Unter Soto and Villa Garcia. 

Garcia. We are ready 

To take j'ou to St. Mary's, Master Cranmer. 
Gran. And I : lead on ; ye loose me from my bonds. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— Sif. Mmy's Church. 

CohE in the pulpit, Lord WiLhixus ov Thame presiding. Lord William 
Howard, Lord Paget, and others. Cranmer enters between Soto 
«««? Villa Garcia, ««(^ the whole choir strike ?yj " Nunc Dlmittia." 
Crakmer is set upon a scaffold before the people. 

Cole. Behold him — {a pause ; peojile in the foreground.) 
People. Oh, unhappy sight ! 

First Protestant. See how the tears run down his fatherly face. 
Second Prot. James, didst thou ever see a carrion crow 

Stand watching a sick beast before he dies ? 
First Prot. Hini perch'd up there ? I wish some thunderbolt 

Would make this Cole a cinder, pulpit and all. 
Cole. Behold him, brethren : he hath cause to weep ! — 

So have we all : weep with him if ye will, 

Yet— 

It is expedient for one man to die, 

Yea, for the people, lest the people die. 

Yet wherefore should he die that hath return'd 

To the one Catholic Universal Church, 

Repentant of his errors 1 
Protestant murmurs. Ay, tell us that. 

Cole. Those of the wrons side will despise the man, 

Deeming him one that thro' the fear of death 

Gave up his cause, except he seal his faith 

In sight of all with flaming martyrdom. 
Cran. Ay. 
Cole. Ye hear him, and albeit there may seem 

According to the canons, pardon due 

To him tiiat so repents, yet are there causes 

Wherefore our Queen and Council at this time 

Adjad^e him to t!ie death. He hath been a traitor, 

A shaker and confounder of the realm ; 

And when the King's divorce was sued at Rome, 

He here, tliis heretic metropolitan. 

As if he had been tlie Holy Father, sat 

And judged it. Did I call him heretic 1 

A huge heresiarch ! never was it known 

That any man so writing, preaching so. 

So poisoning the Church, so long continuing, 



ACr IV.] QUKEN MART. 85 

IlaLh found his pardon ; therefore lie must die, 

For warning and example. 

Other reasons 

There be for this man's ending, whicii our Queen 

And Council at tliis present deem it not 

Expedient to be known. 
Protestant murmurs. I warrant you. 

Cole. Take therefore, all, example by this man, 

For if our holy Queen not pardon him, 

Much less shall others in like cause escape, 

That all of you, the highest as the lowest. 

May learn there is no power against the Lord. 

There stands a man, once of so high degree, 

Chief prelate of our Church, archbishop, first 

In council, second person in the realm, 

Friend so long time of a mighty King ; 

And now ye see downfallen and debased 

From councillor to caitiff — fallen so low, 

The leprous flutterings of the byway, scum 
And offal of the city would not change 

Estates with him ; in brief, so miserable 
There is no hope of better left for him. 
No place for worse. 

Yet, Cranmer, be thou glad. 
This is the work of God. He is glorified 
In thy conversion : lo ! thou art reclaim'd ; 
He brings thee home : nor fear but that to-day 
Thou slialt receive the penitent thiel's award. 
And be with Christ the Lord in Paradise. 
Remember how God made the fierce fire seem 
To those three children like a jjleasant dew. 
Remember, too, 

The triumi)h of St. Andrew on his cross, 
The patience of St. Lawrence in the fire. 
Thus, if thou call on God and all i.lie saints, 
God will beat down the fury of the flame, 
Or (five thee saintly strength to undergo. 
And for thy soul sliall masses here be sung 
By eveiy piiest in Oxford. Prsiy for him. 
Cran. Ay ! one anf! all, dear brothers, pray for me ; 

Pray with one breath, one heart, one soul, for me. 
Cole. And now, lest any one among you doubt 

The man's conversion and remorse of heart, 
Yourselves shall hear hnu speak. Speak, Master Cranmer, 
Fulfill your piomise made nie, and proclaim 
Your true undoubted faith, that all may hear. 
Cran. And that I will. Oh, God, Father of Heaven I 
0, Son of God, Redeemer of the world ! 
0, Holy Ghost ! proceeding from them both, 
Three persons and one God, have mercy on me, 
Most miserable sinner, wretched man. 
I have offended against heaven and earth 
More grievously than any tongue can tell. 
Then whither should I flee for any help 1 
I am ashamed to lift my eyes to heaven, 
And I can find no rofuije u|)on earth. 
Shall I despair tiien ?— God forbid ! 0, God, 



so QUEEN MAKY. [aCT IV. 

For Tliou art merciful, refusing none 

That come to Thee for succor, unto Thee, 

Therefore, I come ; humble myself to Thee ; 

Saj'inir, Lurd God, although raj' sins be great, 

For Tli\' iireat mercj' iiave mercy ! U God the Son, 

Not for slight faults alone, when Thou becaiuesL 

Man in tiie flesh, was tlie great mystery wrought ; 

God the Father, not for little sins 

Didst Thou yield up Thy Son to human death : 

But for the greatest sin that can be sinn'd, 

Yea, even such as mine, incalculable, 

Unpardonable — sin against the light, 

The truth of God, which I had proven and known 

Thine mercy must be greater than all sin. 

Forgive me. Father, for no merit of mine, 

But that Thy name by man be glorified, 

And Thy most blessed Son's, who died for man. 
Good people, every man at time of death 

Would fain set forth some saying that may live 

After his death and better humankind ; 

For death gives life's last word a jiower to live. 

And, like the stone-cut epitaph, remain 

After the vanish'd voice, and speak to men. 

God grant me grace to glorify my God ! 

And first I say it is a grievous case. 

Many so dote upon this bubble world, 

AVhose colors in a moment break and fly, 

They care for nothing else. What sailh St. John : 

' Love of this world is hatred against God." 

Again, I pray you all that, next to God, 

You do iinmuriuurinHly and willingly 

Obey your King and Queen, and not for dread 

Of tliese alone, but fiom the fear of Him 

Whose m, ulsters they be to govern you. 

Thirdly, I pny y(ui all to love tosjether 

Like brethren ; yet what hatred Christian men 

Bear to each oHier, seeming not as brethren, 

But mortal foes ' But do you good to all 

As much as in you lietli. Hurt no man more 

Than you would harm your loving natural brother 

Of the same roof, same breast. If any do, 

Albeit he think himself at home with God, 

Of this be sure, he is whole worlds away. 
Protkstant inu'-murs. What sort of brothers then be those that lust 

Ti> burn each other? 
WrLLiAiis. Peace among you, there. 

Cran. Foui'thly, to those that own exceeding wealth. 

Remember that sore saying si)oken once 

By Him that v»as the truth, " how hard it is 

For the rich man to enter into heaven;" 

Let all rich men remember that hard word. 

I have not time for more ; if ever, now 

Let them flow foitli in charity, seeing now 

The poor so many, and all food so dear. 

Long have 1 lain in jjrison, yet have heard 

O:' all their wretcherliiess. Give to the poor, 

Ye g'vc to God. He is with us in the poor. 



ACT IV.] QUKK\ MAUr. 87 

And now, and forasmuch as I hava come 
To the last end of life, and theieupon 
Hanj^s all my past, and all my life to be, 
Either to live with Christ in heaven with joj', 
Or to be still in pain with devils in hell ; 
And seeing in a moment, I shall find ( pointing upwards) 
Heaven or else hell ready to swallow me, [pointing downwards) 
I shall declare to you my very faith 
Without all color. 
Cole. Hear him, my good brethren. 

Ckan. I do believe in God. Father of all ; 
In every article of the Catholic faith, 
And every syllable taught ns by our Lord, 
His piophets, and apostles, in the Testaments, 
Both Old and New. 
CoLB. Be plainer, Master Cranmer. 

Ckan. A'ld now I come to the ai'eat cause that weighs 
U[)on my conscience more than anything 
Or said or done in al! my life by me ; 
For there be vvritinss I have set abroad 
Against the truth I knew within my heart, 
Written for fear of death, to save my life. 
If that misht be ; the papers by my hand 
Sign'd sine J my degradation — by this hand {holding out his right 

hand) 
Written and sign'd — I here renounce them all ; 
And, since my hand offended, having wriiten 
Against, my heart, my hand shall first be burnt. 
So 1 may come to the fire, {dead silence. Protestant miirnmrs) 
First Puot. I knew it would be so. 

Second Pkot. Our prayers are heard 1 

Third Pkot. God bless him ! 
Catholic mttnnurs. Out upon him ! out upon him ! 

Liar I dissembler ! traitor ! to the fire ! 
Williams {raising his voice). You know that you recanted all you said 
Touching the sacrament in that same book 
You wrote against my Lord of Winchester ; 
Dissemble not ; play the plain Christian man. 
Cean. Alas, my Lord, 

1 have been a man loved pUiimiess all my life ; 
I did dissemble, but the hour has come 
For utter truth and plainness ; wherefore, I say, 
I hold by all I wrote within that booii. 
Moreover, 

As for the Pope I count him Antichrist, 
With all his devil's doctrines ; and refuse, 
Reject him, and abhor him I have said. 
(Cries on all sides. " Pull him down ! Away with him !") 
Colf:. Ay, stop the heretic's raouih. Hale him away. 
^\ illiams. Harm him not, harm him not ; have him to the fire. 

Cranmi^u goes out befiven Uvo Friars, smiling ; hands are reached to him 
from the crowd. Lord William Howard and Lord Paget are left 
alone in the church. 

Pagkt. The nave and aisles all empty as a fool's jest ! 

No, here's Lord William Howard. Wli;it my Lord, 



88 QUEKN MAKY. [aCT IV. 

Yon have not gone to see the binning ? 
HowAUD. Fie ! 

To stand at ease, and stare as at a sho-.v, 

And watch a good man burn. Never again. 

I saw the deatlis of Latimer and Ridley. 

Moreover, tho' a Catholic, I would not, 

For the pure honor of our common nature, 

Hear what I might — another recantation 

Of Cramner at the stake, 
Paget. You'd not hear that. >■ 

He pass'd out smilingt, and he walk'd uprialit ; 

His eye was like a soldier's whom ihe general 

He looks to and leans on as his God, 

Hath rated for some backwardness and bidd'n hiin 

Charge one against a thousand, and the man 

Hurls his soil'd life against the pikes and dies. 
HowAiiD. Yet that he misht not after all those i)apers 

Of recantation yield asain, who knows 1 
Paget. Papers of recantation ; think you then 

Tliat Crannier read all papers that he sign'd 1 

Or sign'd all tliose they tell us that he sign'd "? 

Nay, I trow not : and you shall see, my Lord, . ^. 

That howsoever hero-lil<e the man 

Dies in the fire, this Bonner or another 

Will in some lying fashion misreport 

His ending, to the glory of their church. 

And you saw Latimer and Ridley die "? 

Latimer was eighty, was he nof? his best 

Of life was over then. 
HowAUD. His eighty years 

Look'd somewhat crooked on him in his frieze ; 

But after they had stript him to his shroud, 

He stood upright, a lad of twenty-one, 

And gather'd with his hands the starling flame, 

And wash'd his hands and all his face therein, 

Until the powder suddenly blew liim dead. 

Ridley was longer burning ; but he died 

As manfully and boldly, and 'fore God. 

I know them heretics, but right English ones. 

If ever, as Heaven grant, we clash with Spain, 

Our Ridley-soldiers and our Latimer-sailors 

Will teach her something. 
Paget. Your mild Legate Pole 

Will tell you that the devil helpt them thro' it. [a mnniiiir nj the 
Crowd in ihe distance) 

Hark, how those Roman wolfdogs howl and bay him. 
Howard. Might it not be the other side rejoicing 

In his brave end 1 
Paget. They are too crush'd, too broken ; 

They can but weep in silence. 
HowAKD. Ay, ay, Paaet, 

They have brought it in large measure on themselves. 

Have I not heard them mock the blessed Host 

In songs so lewd the beast miglit roar his claim 

To being in God's image more than they 1 
Have I not seen the gamekeeper, the arooni, 

Gardener, and hunlsman, in llie parson's p'ru'e, ^ 



ACT IV.] QUEEN MART. 89 

The parson from liis own spire swung out dead, 

And Isnoiance ci'j'ing in tlie streets, and all men 

Regarding her 1 I say they have drawn the fire 

Oil tlieir own heads: yet, Paget, I do hold 

Tlie Catiiolic, if he have the greater right, 

Hath been tlie crueller. 
Paget. Action and reaction, 

The miserable see-saw of our child-world, 

Make us despise it at odd hours, my Lord. 

Heaven help that this reaction nnl react 

Yet flercelier under Queen Elizabeth, 

So that she come to rule us. 
Howard. The world's mad. 

Paget. My Lord, the world i^ like a drunken man, 

Who cannot move straight to his end — but reels, 

Now to the right, then as far to the left, 

Push'd by the crowd beside — and underfoot 

An earthquake ; for since Henry for a doubt — 

Which a young lust had clapt upon the back, 

Crying, " Forward," — set our old church rocking, men 

Have hardly known what to believe, or whether 

They should believe in anything ; the currents 

So shift and change they see not how they are borne, 

Nor whither. I concUule the King a beast ; 

Verily, a lion, if you will — the world 

A most obedient beast and fool — myself 

Half beast and fool as appertaining to it; 

Altho' your Lordship hath as little of each 

Cleaving to your original Adam-clay, 

As may be consonant with mortality. 
HovTAKD. We talk and Cranmer sulFers. 

The kindliest man I ever knew ; see, see, 

I speak of him in the past. Unhappy land ! 

Hard-natured Queen half Spanish in herself, 

And grafted on the hard-grain'd stock of Spain — ■ 

Her life, since Philip left her, and she lost 

Her fierce desire of bearing him a child, 

Hath, like a brief and bitter winter's day, 

Gone narrowing down and darkening to a close. 

There will be more conspiracies, I fear. 
Paget. Ay, ay, beware of France. 
Howard. Paget, Paget ! 

I have seen heretics of the poorer sort. 

Expectant of the rack from day to day. 

To whom the fire were welcome, lying chain'd 

In breathless dungeons over steaming sewers, 

Fed with rank bread that crawl'd upon the tongue, 

And putrid wafer, every drop a worm, 

Until they died of rotted limbs ; and then 

Cast on the dunghill naked, and become 

Hideously alive again from head to heel. 

Made even the carrion-nosing mongrel vomit 

Witli hate and horror. 
Paget. Nay, you sicken me 

To hear you. 
Howard. Fancy- sick ; these things are done, 



90 QUEEN MARY. [aCT IV. 

Done riglit against the promise of this Queen 
Twice given. 
Paget. No faitli with lieretics, my Lord ! 

Hist ! there be two old gossips— gospellers, 
I take it ; stand behind the pillar here ; 
I warrant you they talk about the burning. 

Note.— From this point to the end of the Act forms the Fourth Scene of the Third 
Act. 

Enter two Old Women, l. 1 b. Joan, and after her Tib. 

Joan. Why, it be Tib. 

Tib. I cum behind tha, gall, and couldn't make tha hear. Eli, the 
wind and the wet ! What a day, what a day ! nigh upo' judgment daay 
loike. Pwoaps be pretty things, Joan, but they wunt set i' the Lords' 
cheer o' that daay. 

Joan {crossing over, k., and sitting down on projecting portion of the icing). 
I must set. down myself, Tib ; it be a var waay vor my owld legs up vro' 
Isli)).* Eh, my rheumatizy be that bad, howiver be I to win to the 
burnin". 

Tie { fallowing , and standing by her side). I should say 'twur ovver by 
now. I'd ha' been here avore, but Dumblef wur blow'd wi' the wind, 
and Bumble's the best milcher in Islip. 

Joan. Our Daisy's as good 'z her. 

Tib. Noa, Joan. 

Joan. Our Daisy's butter's as good 'z hern. 

Tib Noa, Joan. 

Joan. Oar Daisy's cheeses be better. 

Tib. Noa, Joan. 

Joan. Eh, then ha thy waay wi' me, Tib ; ez thou hast wi' thy owld 
man. 

Tib. Ay, Joan, and my owld man wur up and asvaay betime.s wi' dree 
hard e<2;gs for a good pleace at the burnin' ; and ban-m' the wet, Hodiie 
'lid ha' been a-harrowin' o' white peasep i' the outfield — and barrin' the 
wind. Dumble wur blow'd wi' the wind, so'z we was forced to stick her, 
but we fetclied her round at last. Thank the Lord therevore. Dum- 
bles the best milcher in Jslip. 

Paget and Howard enter, l. 2 e., and pause to listen. 

Joan. Thou's thy way wi' man and beast, Tib I wonder at tha', it 
beats me ! Eii, but I do know ez pwoap.-^ and vires be bad things ; 
tell'ee now, 1 heerd summat as summun towld summun o' owld Bishop 
Gardiner's end ; there wur an owld lord a-cum to dino wi' un, and a- 
wur so owld a-cou!dn't bide vor his dinner, but a-had to bide howsoni- 
iver, Vor,"! wunt dine," says my Lord Bisiiup, ssya he, "not till 1 
hears ez Latimer and Ridley be a-vire ;" and so Ihey bided on and on 
till vour o' the clock, till his man cum in post vro' here, and tells un ez 
the virehas Ink holt, " Now," says the bishop, says he, "we'll gwo to 
dinner ; ' and the owld lord fell to 'z meat wi' p. will, God bless un ; but 
Gardiner wur struck down like by the hand o' God avore a could taste a 
mossel, and a-set him all a-vire, so'z the tongue on un cum a-lolluping 
out o' 'is mouth as black as a rat. Thank the Lord, therevore. 

Paget {aside). The fools ! 



* ;V village in the vicinity of the city of Oxford. 

t Dumble and Daisy are the names of the favorite milch cows of these two old 
ladies. 



ACT IV.] QUKKN JIAUY. 91 

Tib. Ay, Joan ; the Queen Mniy gwoes on a-biirnin' and a-buriiin', 
to gi(. lier baaby born; but all ber buinin's 'ill never burn out the 
hypocrisy that makes the water in her. There's nought but the vire 
" of God's hell " ez can burn out that. 
Joan. Thank tlieLord. therevore. 
Paget (aside). Tlie fools ! 

Tib A-burnin', and a-burnin', and a-inakin o' volk madder and mad- 
der; but tek thou my word vor't, Joan, — and I bean't wrong not twice 
i' ten year — the burnin' o' the owld archbishop 'ill burn the Pwoap out 
o' tills 'ere land vor iver and iver. 

Howard (n/iz/iili/, (cdvanci/;//). Out of the church, you b. ace of cursed 
crones. 
Or I will have you duck'd. (Women hurri/ out, r. 1 e.) Said I 

not right 1 
For how should reverend prelate or throned prince 
Brook for an hour such brute nialignily 1 
" Ah, what an acrid wine has Luther brew'd !" 
Paget. Pooh, i)i>'jh, my Lord I poor garrulous country wives. 
Buy you their cheeses, and they'll side with you ; 
You cannot judaic the liquor from the lees. 
IIow^AiiD. 1 think that in some sort we may. But see, 

Elder PiiTER.?. L. 1 E.. in deep distress. 

Peters, my gentleman, an honest Catholic, 
Who follow'd with the crowd to Ciannier's fire. 
One that would neither misreport nor lie. 
Not to gain Paradise ; no, nor if the Po[)e 
Charged him to do it-^he's white as death. 
Pete;?, how pale you look ! you bring the smoke 
Of Cranmer's burning with you. 

Pkteks. Twice or thrice 

Tli3 smoke of Cranmer's burning wrapt me round. 

Howard (c). Peters, you know me Catholic, but English. 
Did he die bravely 1 Tell me that, or leave 
All else untold. 

Peters (l.). My Lord, he died most bravely. 

PIowAUD. Then tell me all. 

Paget. Ay, Master Peters, tell us. 

Peticks. You saw him how he past among the crowd ; 
And ever as he walk'd, the Spanish friars 
Still ))lied him with entreaty and reproach : 
But Cranmer, as the helmsman at tiie helm 
Steers, ever looking to the happy haven 
Where he shall rest at night, moved to his death ; 
And I could see tiiat many silent hands 
Came from the crowd and met his own ; and thus 
When we had come where Ridley burnt with Latimer, 
He, with a cheerful smile, as one whose mind 
Is all made up, in haste put otf the rags 
They had mock'd his misery with, and all in white, 
His long while beard, which he had never shaven 
Since Heni-y's death, down-sweepins to the chain, 
Wherewith they liound him to the stake, he stood, 
iMore like an ancient fither of the Churcli, 
Than heretic of llieso limes ; and still the friars 
Plied him, but Cranmer only shook his head. 



92 QtTEKN MAltr. [aCT V. 

Or ansvver'd them in smiling negatives ; 

Whereat Lord Williams gave a sudden cry: — 

" Make sliort! make sliorL !" and so they ht the wood. 

Then Cranmer lifted his left hand to heaven, 

And thrust his right into the bitter flame ; 

And crying, in his deep voice, more than once, 

" This halh offended — this uiiworlliy hand! " 

So held it till it all was burn'd, before 

The flame had reach'd his body ; I stood near — 

Mark'd him — he never uttered moan of pain : 

He never stirr'd or writhed, but, like a statue, 

Unmoving in the greatness of the flame. 

Gave up the ghost; and so past, martyr-like — 

Martyr I may not call him — past— but whither 1 

Paget. To purgatory, man, to purgatory. 

Peteks. Nay, but, my Lord, he denied purgatory. 

Paget. Why, then, to heaven, and God ha' mercy on him, 

HowAKD. Paget, despite his fearful heresies, 

I loved tlie man, and needs must moan for hiui ; 
Cranmer ! 

Paget. But your moan is useless now : 

Come out, my Lord ; it is a world of fools. [IJxeuiil, r. 1 e. 



ACT v.* 

SCENE 1.— London. Sail m the Palace. 

Q0BEN and Sir Nicholas Hbath enter, l. 1 e. 

Heath (l. c ). Madam, 

I do assure you that it must be look'd to : 
Calais is but ill-garrison'd, in Guisnes 
Are scarce two hundred men, and tlie French fleet 
Rule in the narrow seas. It must bo look'd to. 
If war should fall between yourself and France ; 
Or you will lose your Calais. 

Philip appears, r. 2 e. — pauses.' 

Mary (c). It shall be look'd to ; 

I wish you a good morning, good Sir Nicholas : 

Here is the King. 
[Heath Makes his obeisance and exits, l. 1 e., as Philip advances. 
Phil. (r. c ). Sir Nicholas tells you true, 

And you must look to Calais when I go. 
Mary. Go ! must you go, indeed — again — so soon ? 

Why, nature's licensed vagabond, the swallow. 

That might live always in the sun's warm heart.. 

Stays longer here in our poor north than you : — 

Knows where ho nested — ever comes again. 
Phil, (eoldly tliroughout). And, madam, so shall I. 
Maiiy, 0, will you ? will you ? 

* Act IV. in representation. 



ACT V.J UDKKN MAKY. 93 

I am taint wiMi fear that you will come n^ i..uic. 
Phil. Ay, ay ; but many voices call me hence. 
Mauy. Voices — I hear unhappy rumors — {Philip frowns) nay, 

I say not I believe. What voices call you 

Dearer than mine that should be clearest to you 1 

" Alas, my Lord ? what voices and how many 1 " 
Phil. The voices of Castile and Ara^on, 

Granada, Naples, Sicily, and Milan — 

" The voices of Franche-Comte, and the Netherlands." 

" The voices of Peru and Mexico," 

" Tuni, and Oran, and the Philippines," 

And all the fair spice-islands of the East. 
Mary {admirimjly). Vou are the mijihtiest monarch upon earth, 

1 but a little Queen; and .so, indeed. 

Need you the more ; and wherefore could you not 

Helm the huge vessel of your state, ray liege, 

Here, by the side of her who loves you most ? 
Phil. No, madam, no ! a candle in the sun 

Is all but smoke — a star beside the moon 

Is all hut lost; your people will not crown me— ^ 

Your people are as cheerless as your clime ; 

Hate me and mine : witness the brawls, the gibbets. 

Here swings a Spaniard — there an Englishman ; 

The peoples are unlike as their complexion ; 

Yet will I be your swallow and return — 

But now I cannot bide, (crosses.) 
Maht. Not to help me ? 

They hate me also for my love to you. 

My Philip; and these judgments on the land — 

Harvestless autumns, horrible agues, plague 

Phil, {sternly). The blood and sweat of heretics at the stake 

Is God's best dew upon the barren field. 

Burn more ! (crosses ) 
Mary (c, in agomj). I will, I will ; and you will stay. 
Phil. Have I not said 1 Madam I came to sue 

Your Council and yourself to declare war. 
" Mary. Sir, there are many EnglLsh. in your ranks 

" To help your battle. 
" Phil. So far, good. I say 

" I came to sue your Council and yourself 

" To declare war " against the King of Prance. 
Mary [with disapjMmtment). Not to see me ■? 
Phil, (coldly). Ay, madam, to see you. 

(aside) Unalterably and pesteringly fond ! 

(aloud) But soon or late you must have war with France ; 

King Henry warms your traitors at his hearth. 

Carew is there, and Thomas Stafford there. 

Courtenay, belike 

Mary. A fool and featherhead ! 

Phil. Ay, but they use his name. " In brief, this Henry 

'• Stirs up your land against you to the intent 

" That you may lose your English heritage. 
' And then, your Scottish namesake marrying 
" The Dauphin, lie would weld France, England. Scotland, 
" Into one sword to hack at Spain and me. 
^' Mary. And yet the Pope is now colleasued v.'iih France j 
" You make your wars upon him down in Italy — • 



94 QUEEN MARr. [aCT V. 

" Philip, can that be well "? 
" Phil. Content you, raadam ; 

" You must abide my judgment, and ray lather's, 

"Wlio deems it a most just and holy war. 

" The Pope would cast the S[)nniard out of Naples ; 

' He calls us worse than Jews, Moors, Saracens. 

" The Pope has pusli'd his horns beyond his mitre — 

" Beyond his province. Now, 

" Duke Alva will but touch him on the horns, 

" And he withdraws; and of his holy licad — 

'• For Alva is true son of the true church — 

" No hair is harm'd. Will you not help me there!" 
Mauy. Alas! the Council will not hear of war. 

They say your wais are not the wars of England. 

They will not lay more taxes on a land 

So huncrer-nipt and wretched ; and you know 

The crown is poor. •' AVe have given the church lands back ; 

" The nobles would not ; nay, they clapt their hands 

" Upon their swords when ask'd; and therefore God 

" Is hard upon the people." What's to be done 1 

Sir, I will move them in your cause again, 

And we will raise us loans and subsidies 

Among the merchants ; and Sir Thomas Gresham 

Will aid us. There is Antwerp and the Jews, 
Phil. Madam, my thanks. 

Maky (eagcrlij). And you will stay your going 1 

Phil, {evading the question). And further to discourage and lay lame 

The plots of France, altho' you love hernot, 

You must proclaim Elizabeth your heir. 

She stands between you and the Queen of Scots. 
iMaiiy. The Queen of Scots at least is Catholic. 
Phil. Ay, niMdam, Catholic; but I will not have 

The King of France the King of England too. 
Maky. But she's a heretic, and when I am gone, 

Brings the new learning back. 
PuiL. It must be done. 

You must proclaim Elizabeth your heir. 
Mart {subinisaivebj). Then it is done ; but you will stay your going 

Somewhat beyond your settled purpose 1 
PuiL. (coldbj). No! 

Mauy. Wiiat, not one dayl 

PniL. {petidantly). You beat upon the rock. 

Mary (jnteously). And I am broken there. 
Phil, (sternly). Is this a place 

To wail in, madam ? what ! a public hall. 

Go in, I pray you. 
Mart [entreatingly). Do not seem so changed. 

Say go; but only say it lovingly. 
PniL. You do mistake. I am not one to change. 

I never loved you more. 
Mart. Sire, I obey you. 

Come quickly. 
PuiL, (c^wswy, K.). Ay! 

\_Exi,t Maky, sadly — lonldng back tearfully , L. 2 E. 

Enter Cou.NT de Fekia, l. 2 e. 



•] 



QUEEX MAI'.Y. 95 



Feria (nsiik). The Queen in tears. 

Phil, i^turniufj round). Feria ! 

Has)>thou not mark'd — (a-Ivances) come closer to mine ear — 

How doubly aj.ed this Queen of ours liath yrown 

Since she lost hope of bearing us a ciiild ? 
Feria {l. c, subserviently). Sire, if your Grace hath raarlt'd it, so 

liave I. 
Phil. Hast thou not liijewise mark'd Elizabeth, 

Ho'.v fair and roya! — like a Queen, indeed 7 
Fekia {as lefore). " Allow me the same answer as before — 

" That" if your Grace hath mark'd her, so have I. 
Phil, f pointcd'tj). Good, now ; methinks my Queen is like enougli 

To leave me by-and-by. 
Fehia. To leave you, sire 1 

Phil, {cauiioiisly). I moan not lil;e to live. Ehzabetb — 

To Philibert of Savoy, as you know, 

We meant to wed her ; but I am not ;;ure 

She will not serve me better — so my Queen 

Would leave me — as — my wife. 
Feuia. Sire, even so. 

•• Phil. She will not have Prince Philibert of Savoy. 
" Feria. No, sire." 
Phil. I have to pray you, some odd time, 

To sound the Princess carelessly on this ; 

Not as from me, but as your fantasy ; 

And tell me how she tabes it. 
" Fekia. Sire, I will. 

" Phil. I am not certain but that Philibert 

" Shall be the man ; and I shall urge his suit 

" Upon the Queen, because I am not certain : " 

You understand me, Feria 1 
Fehia. Sire, I do. 

Phil, (with meaning'). And if you be not secret in this matter — 

You understand me there, too ? 
Frria. Sire, I do. 

Phil. You must be sweet and supple, like a Frenchman. 

She is none of those who loathe the lioneyconib. 

[Exit Feuia, l, 2 e. 
Enter Renaud, k. 2 e. 

Uen. My liege, I bring yon goodly tidings. 
I'HiL. Well. 

Ren. There will be war with France at last, my liege ; 

Sir Thomas Stafford, a bull-headed ass, 

Sailing from Fiance, with thirty Englishmen, 

Hath taken Scarboro' Castle, north of York ; 

Proclaims himself protector, and affii ms 

The Queen has forfeited her right to reign 

By marriage with an alien — other things 

As idle ; a weak Wyatt ! Little doubt 

This buzz will soon be silenced ! but the Council 

(I have talk'd with some already) are for war 

'i'liis is the fifth conspiracy liatcli'd in France; 

They show their teeth upon it; and your Grace, 

So you will take advice of mine, should slay 

Yet for a while, to shape and guide the event. 
Phil. Good ! Ronaid, I will stay then. 



96 QUEEN MAKY. [aCT V. 

Ren. {artfuUy). Also, sire, 

Might I not say — to please your wife, the Queen '' 
Phil, {with a sinister laugh). Ay, Reiiard, if you care to put it so. 

[Exetmt, K. 2 e. 

SCENE 11.—^ room in the Pcdace. 

Mary and Cardinal Pole discovered, seatd. Lady Clarence and Alice 
standing in the recess of the windoiv in the hachground. 

Mary. Reginal Pole, what news hath plagued thy heart ■? 

What makes thy favor like the bloodless head 

Fall'n on llio block, and held up by the hair "? 

Philip ? 

Pole. No, Philip is as warm in hfe 

As ever, 
Mary. Ay, and then as cold as ever. 

Is Calais taken ? 
Pole. Cousin, there hath chanced 

A sharper harm to England and to Rome 

Tlian Calais taken. Julius the ThirdJ 

AVas ever just, and mild, and fatherlike; 

But this new Pope Caraffa, Paul the Fourth, 

Not only reft me of that legateship 

Which Julius gave me, and the legateship 

Anuex'd to Canterbury — nay, but worse — 

" And yet I must obey the Holy Father, 

" And so must you, {jood cousin ; — worse tlan all, 

" A passing bell toll'd in a dying ear — " 

He hath cited me to Rome, for heresy. 

Before his Inquisition, 
Mary. I knew it, cousin, 

But held from you all papers sent by Rome, 

That you might rest among us, till the Pofic, 

To compass which I wrote myself to Rome, 

Reversed his doom, and that you might not seem 

To disobey his Holiness. 
Pole. He hates Philip ; 

He is all Italian, an 1 he hates the Spaniard ; 

He cannot dream that I advised the war ; 

He strikes thro' me at Piiilip and yourself. 

Nay, but I know it of old, he hates me too ; 

So brands me in the stare of Christendom 

A heretic ! {i-iscs and paces up and doivn) 

" Now, even now, when bow'd before ray time, 

" The house half-ruin'd ere the lease be out; 

" When I should guide the church in peace at home, 

" After my twenty years of banishment, 

"And all my lifelong labor to uphold 

" The primacy — a hereiic. Long ago, 

" When I was ruler in the patrimony, 

" I was too lenient to the Lutheran, 

" And I and learned friends among ourselves 

" Would freely canvass certain Lutheranisms. 

" What then, he knew I was no Lutheran. 

" A heretic ! 

" He drew this shaft against me to the head. 



Acr T.J queb:n maky. 97 

'■ When it was thought I miglit be chosen Pope, 

'' But then withdiew it. In full corisistoij^ 

" When I was made Archbisliop, he ajiproved me. 

" And how sI)ouId he have sent me Legate hiilier, 

" Deeming me lieretic "? and what heresy since ? 

'• But lie was evermore mine enemy, 

" And hates the Spaniard — fiery-choleric, 

" A drinker of black, strong, volcanic wines, 

" That ever makes him fierier." I, a heretic ! {biU.erly) 

{pauscK before Mary) Your Highness knows tliat in puruging 

heresy 
I have gone beyond your late Lord Chancellor — 
He cried Enough ! enough ! before his death. — 
Gone beyond him and mine own natural man 
" (it was God's cause) ;" so far they call me now, 
The scourge and butcher of their English church. 
Mary. Have courage, your reward is heaven itself. 
Pole [pacinrf to mid fro). They groan amen ; they swarm into the fire 
Like Hies — for what 1 no dogma. They know nothing. 
They burn for nothing. 
Mary. You liave done your best. 

Pole. Have done my best, and as a faithful son. 

That all day long hath wrouglit his father's work, 
When back he comes at evening hath the door 
Shut on him by the father whom he loved, 
His earlier follies cast into his teelh, 
And the poor son turn'd out into the street 
To sleep, to flie — I shall die of it, cousin, {pachin to and fro 
much disturbed.) 
Mart. I pray you be not so disconsolate ; 

I still will do mine utmost with the Pope. 
Poor cousin. 

Have I not been the fast friend of your life 
Since mine began 1 and it was thought we two 
Might make one flesh, and cleave unto each other 
As man and wife. 
Pole. Ah, cousin, I remember 

How I would dandle you upon my knee 
At lisping age. " I watch'd you dancing once 
" With your huge father ; he look'd the great Harry, 
" You but his cockboat ; prettily you did it, 
" And innocently." No — we were not made 
One flesh in happiness, no happiness here ; 
But now we are made one flesh in misery ; 
Our bridemaids are not lovely — Disappointment, 
Ingratitude, injustice, evil-tongue, 
Laboi'-in-vain. 
Mary. Surely, not all in vain. 

Peace, cousin, peace ! I am sad at heart myself. 
Pole {bitterly). Our altar is a mound of dead men's clay, 
Dug fiom the grave that yawns for us beyond ; 
And there is one death stands behind the groom, 

And there is one death stands behind the bride 

Mary. Have you been looking at the " Dance of Death 1 ' 
Pole {pausing before "^Ikv.^ excitedly, and prodmiiig papers). No; but 
these libellous papers which I found 
Strewn in your palace. Look you here— the Pope 



98 QUEEN MA.Kr. [act V. 

Pointing at me with " Pole, the heretic, 
Thou hast burnt others, do thou burn thyself, 
Or I will burn thee !" and this other, see! 
" We pray continually for the death 
Of our accursed Queen, and Cardinal Pole." 
{aside) This last — I dare not read it her. * 

Mary {starting up — alarmed). Away ! 

Why do you bring me these 1 
I thought you knew me better. I never read, 
I tear them ; they come back upon my dreams. 
The hands that write them should be burnt clean off 
As Cranmer's, and the fiends that utter them 
Tonoue-torn with pincers, lash'd to death, or lie 
Famishing in black cells, while famish'd rats 
Eat tliem alive. Why do they bring me these 7 
Do you mean to drive me mad ? (crosses, excitedly pressing her 
hands to her Jtead.) 

Pole. I had forgotten 

How these poor libels trouble you. Your pardon, 
Sweet cousiii; and farewell ! " bubble world, 
Whose colors in a moment break and fiy !" 
Why, who said that? I know not — true enough! [puts up the 
papers, all hct the last, tvhich falls.) [Exits, l 1 e. 

Alice (aside). If Cranmer's spirit were a mocking one, 

And heard these two, there might be sport for him. (Lady 
Clarence advances to the Queen ) 

Mary (with fear and suspicion). Clarence, they hate me : even while I 
speak 
There lurks a silent dagger, listening 
In some dark closet, some long gallery, drawn, 
And panting for my blood as I go by. 

Lady C. Nay, madam, there be loyal papers too, 
And I have often found them. 

Mary. Find me one ! 

Lady C. Ay, madam ; but Sir Nicholas Heath, the Chancellor, 
Would see your Highness. 

Mary. Wherefore should I see him 1 

Lady C. "Well, madam," he may bring you news from PhiHp. 

Mary [sinks into chair, r.). So, Clarence 1 

Lady C. Let me first put up your hair ; 

It tumbles all abroad. 

Mary {despondingli/). And the gray dawn 

Of old age that never will be mine 
Is all the clearer seen. No, no ; what mattei's'? 
Forlorn I am, and let me look forlorn. 

Ikter Sir Nicholas Heath, l. 1 e. 

Heath (after saluting — speaks with hesitation). I bring your Majesty 
much grievous news 
I grieve to bring it. (pauses, then speaks with difficulty, and sor- 
roivfuUy) Madam, Calais is taken. 
Mary (fiercely — starting up). What traitor spoke 1 Here, let my 
cousin Pole 
Seize him and burn him for a Lutheran. 
Heath. Her Highness is unwell. I will retire. 
Lady C. Madam, your chancellor, Sir Nicholas Heath. 



ACT v.] QUKEN MABT. 99 

Mart {sinks back in chair). Sir Nicholas 1 I am stunn'd — Nicholas 
Heath 1 
{pitcoaslij, and vaguely) Methought some traitor smote me on 

the head. 
What said you, my good Lord, that our brave English 
Had sallied out from Calais and driven back 
The Frenchmen from their trenches ? 
Heath {sadly). Alas! no. 

Tliat gateway to the mainland over which 
Om- flag hath floated for two hundred' years 
Is Fiance again. 
Mary (stijltng her emotion). So ; but it is not lost — 

Not yet. [starts top, speaking vehemently, and pacing to and fro) 

Send out ; let England as of old 
Rise lionlike, strike hard and deep into 
The prey they are rending from her — ay, and rend 
The renders too. Send out, send out, and make 
Musters in all the counties ; gather all 
From sixteen years to sixty ; collect the fleet ; 
Let every craft that carries sail or gun 

Steer toward Calais, [stopping suddenly, c.) Guisnes is not taken 
yet ? 
Heath (l, c). Guisnes is not taken yet. 
Mary. There yet is hope. 

Heath. All, madam, but your people are so cold ; 
I do much fear that England will not care. 
Methiiiks there is no manhood left among us. 
Mary (vehemently). Send out ; I am too weak to stir abroad : 
Tell my mind to the Coimcil — to the Parliament ; 
Proclaim it to the winds. Thou art cold thyself 
To babble of their coldness. would I were 
My father for an hour ! Away now — quick ! 

[Heath bows and exits, l. 1 e. 
1 hoped I had served God with all my might ! 
It seems I have not. Ah ! much heresy 
Shelter'd in Calais. Saints, 1 have rebuilt 
Your shrines, set up your broken images ; 
Be comfortable to me. Suffer not 
That my brief reign in England be defamed 
Thro' all her angry chronicles hereafter 
By loss of Calais, {piteously) Grant me Calais. "Philip, 
" We have made war upon the Holy Father 
" All for your sake : what good could come of that 1 
" Lady C. No, madam, not aijainst the Holy Father; 

" You did but help King Philip's war with France. 
" Your troops were never down in Italy. 
" Mary." I am a byword. Heretic and rebel 

Point at me and make merry. Philip gone ! 
And Calais gone ! Time that I were gone too ! {sobs convulsively 
and leans on Lady Cr,AUENCE/(?r support.) 
Lady C. Nay, if the fetid gutter had a voice 

And cried I was not clean, what should I care 1 
Or you, for heretic cries 7 And I believe, 
Spite of your melancholy Sir Nicholas, 
Your England is as loyal as myself. 
Mary {rousing herself ; then after a pause, seeing the paper dropped by 
Pole). There, there ! another paper ! Said you not 



lf)0 QUEEN MART. [aCT V. 

Many of these were loyal 1 Shall I try 

If this be one of such 1 
Lady C. [alarmed). Let it be, let it be. 

" God pardon me ! I have never yet found one." 
Mart {picking it up — reads). " Your people hate you as your husband 
hates you." 

Clarence, Clarence, what have I done ? what sin 

Beyond all grace, all pardon 1 " Mother of God, 

" Thou knowest " never woman meant so well, 

And fared so ill in this disastrous world. 

My people hate me and desire my death. 
Lady C. No, madam, no. 

Mart {with grief ). My husband hates me and desires my death. 
Lady C. No, madam ; these are libels. 

Mart {much agitated and in weak tones). I hate myself and I desire my 
death, (sinks into the chair faint and exhausted ; Alice ad- 
vances timidly and speaks ivith soothing tenderness.) 
" Lady C. Long live your Majesty ! Shall Alice smg you 

" One of her pleasant songs 1 Alice, my child, 

" Bring us your lute. (Alice goes) They say the gloom of Saul 

" Was lighten'd by young David's harp. 
" Mart. Too youn^ ! 

" And never knew a Philip, {re-enter Alice) Give me the lute. 

" He hates me ! {she sings) 

" Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing; ! 

" Beauty passes like a breath and love is lost in loathins : 

" Low, my lute ; speak low, my lute, but say the world is nothing— 

" Low, lute, low ! 
" Love will hover round the flowers when they first awaken ; 
" Love will fly the fallen leaf, and not be overtaken ; 
" Low, my lute ! oh, low, my lute ! we fade and are forsaken— 

" Low, dear lute, low ! 

" Take it away ! not low enough for me !" 
AncR. Your Grace hath a low voice. 
Maky {angrily). How dare you say it 1 

Even for that he hates me. A low voice 

Lost in a wilderness where none can hear ! 

A voice of shipwreck on a shoreless sea ! 

A low voice from the dust and from the grave, (sinks from the 
chair on to the footstool) 

There, am I low enouuh now 1 {she appears to become unconscious.) 
Alice (aside). "Good Lord !" how grim and ghastly looks her Grace 

With both her knees drawn upward to her chin. 

There was an old-world tomb beside my father's, 

And this was open'd, and the dead were found 

Sitting, and in th's fashion ; she looks a corpse. 

Enter Lady Magdalen Dacres, l. 1 e. 

Ladt Magdalen. Madam, the Count de Feria waits without, 

In hopes to see your Highness. 
Lady C. (pointing to Mary). Wait he must— 

Her trance again. She neither sees nor hears. 

And may not speak for hours. 
Lady M. (l. c). Unhappiest 

Of Queens and wives and women. 
Alice {advancing to the foreground tvith Lady Magdalen). And all along 

Of Philip. 



ACT v.] QUEEN MAKY. 101 

Lady M. {aside). Not so loud ! " Our Clarence there 
■ " Sees ever such an aureole round the Queen, 

'■■ It gilds tlie greatest wronger of her peace, 

" Who stands the nearest to her." 
Alice {aside). Ay, this Philip; 

I used to love the Queen with all my heart-^ 

God help nie, but niethinks I love her less 

For such a dotage upon such a man. 

" I would I were as tall and strong as j'ou. 
" Lady M. I seem half-shamed at times to be so tall. 
" Alice. You are the stateliest deer in all the herd — 

" Beyond his aim — but I am small and scandalous, 

" And love to hear bad tales of Philip. 
" Lady M. Why V 

" 1 never heard him utter worse of you 

" Than that you were low-statured. 
" Alice. Does he think 

" Low stature is low nature, or all women's 

" Low as his ovvu 1 
"Lady M. There you strike in the nail. 

" This coarseness is a want of fantasy. 

" It is the low man thinks the woman low ; 

'' Sin is too dull to see beyond himself. 
"Alice. Ah, Magdalen, sin is bold as well as dull. 

" How dared he 1 
" Lady M. Stupid soldiers oft are bold. 

"Poor lads, they see not what the general sees, 

" A risk of utter ruin. I am not 

" Beyond his aim, or was not. 
"Alice. Who? Not you 1 

" Tell, tell me : save my credit with myself. 
" Lady M. I never breathed it to a bird in the eaves, 

" Would not for all the stars and maiden moon 

" Our drooping Queen should know ! In Hampton Court 

" My window look'd upon the corridor ; 

" And I was robing; — this poor throat of mine 

" Barer than I should wish a man to see it— 

" When he we speak of drove the window back, 

" And, like a thief, push'd in his royal hand ; 

" But by God's providence a good stout staff 

" Lay near me ; and you know me strong of arm ; 

" I do believe I lamed his Majesty's 

" For a day or two, tho', give the devil his due, 

" I never found he bore me any spite." 
Alice. I would she could have wedded that poor youth, 

My Lord of Devon — " light enough, God knows, 

" And mixt with Wyatt's rising — and the boy 

" Not out of him — but neither cold, coarse, cruel, 

" And more than all — no Spaniard." 
Lady C. Not so loud. 

Lord Devon, girls ! what are you whispering here 1 
Alice. Probing an old state-secret — how it chanced 

That this young Earl was sent on foreign travel, 

Not lost his head. 
IiADY C. There was no proof against him. 

Alice. Nay, madam ; did not Gardiner intercept 

A letter which the Count de Noailles wrote 



102 QUEEN MART. [ ACT V. 

To that dead traitor, Wyatt, with full proof 

Of Courteiiay's treason ? What became of that 1 
Lady C. Some say that Gardiner, out of love for him, 

Buiiit it, and some relate that it was lost 

Wiien Wyatt sack'd the Chancellor's house in South wark. 

Let dead things rest. 
Alice. Ay, and with hira who died 

Alone in Italy. 
Lady C. Much changed, I hear, 

" Had put off levity and put graveness on. 

" The foreign courts report him in his manner 

" Noble as his young person and old shield. 

" It might be so " — but all is over now ; 

He caught a chill in the lagoons of Venice, 

And died in Padua. 
Mary [looking up suddenly). Died in the true faith 1 
Lady C. Ay, madam, happily. 
Mary. Happier he than I. 

Lady M. It seems her Highness hath awaken'd. Think you 

That I might dare to tell her tiiat the Count 

Maky {rising assisted bi/ Lady C). I will see no man hence forever- 
more, 
Saving my confessor, and my cousin Pole. 
Lady M. It is the Count de Feria, ray dear lad}'. 
Mary {vacantly). What Count? 
Lady M. The Count de Feria, from his Majesty, 

King Philip. 
Mary {^with sudden energy — during the speaking Lady Clarence and 
Alice assist her). Philip ! quick ! loop up my hair! 

Throw cusliions on that seat, and make it throne-like. 

Arrange my dress — the gorgeous Indian shawl 

That Philip brought me in our happy days — 

That covers all. So — am I somewhat queenlike, 

Bride of the mightiest sovereign upon earth 1 (strives to stand 
as erect as possible.) 
Lady C. Ay, so your Grace would bide a moment yet. 
Mary {excitedly). No, no ! he brings a letter. I may die 

Before I read it. Let me see him at once. 

Unter Copnt de Feria, l. 1 e. — kneels. 

Feria. I trust your Grace is well, {she offers her hand which he kisses, 

then rises, aside) How her hand burns ! 
Mary. I am not well, but it will better me, 

Sir Count, to read the letter which you bring. 
Feria. Madam, I bring no letter. 
Mary. How! no letter 1 

Feria. His highness is so vex'd with strange affairs 

Mary {bitterly). That his own wife is no affair of his. 
FiiRiA. Nay, madam, nay ! he sends his veriest love. 

And says, he will come quickly. 
Mary. Doth he, indeed ? 

" You, sir, do yoii remember what yon said 

" When last you came to England ? 
" Feria. Madam, I brought 

" My Kins's congratulations; it was hoped 

" Your Highness was once more in happy state 



ACT T.] QUEEN MAEY. 103 

" To give him an heir male. 
" Mart. Sir, you said more ; 

•' You said he would come quickly. I had horses 

" On all the road from Dover, day and niglit ; 

" On all the road from Harwich, niglit and day ; 

" But the child came not, and the husband came not; 

" And yet he will come quickly." . . . Thou hast learnt 

Thy lesson, and I mine. There is no need 

For Philip so to shame himself again. 

Return, 

And tell him that I know he comes no more. 

Tell him at last I know his love is dead, 

And that I am in state to bring forth death — 

Thou art commission'd to Elizabeth, 

And not to me. {sinks into chair.) 
Feria. Mere compliments and wishes, 

Bnt shall I take some message from your Grace 1 
Mart. Tell her to come and close my dying eyes, 

And wear my crown, and dance upon my grave. 
Fetiia. Tlien I may say your Grace will see your sister 1 

Your Grace is too low spirited. " Air and sunshine. 

" I would we had you, madam, in our warm Spain. 

" You droop in your dito London." 
Mart {fo Ladt Clarence"). Have him away, 

I sicken of his readiness. 
Ladt C. My Lord Count, {waving her hand) 

" Her Highness is too ill for colloquy." 
Feria. I wish her Highness better. '^ {aside) How her hand burns." 

Kneels and /i/sses her hand, then bows and exits. L. 1 e., pnusinj for a moment 
to look back at the QueeiV. Sloiv music, and Mart falls b ick gentlij in 
her chair, supported b;i Ladt Clarence ; Alice in an altitude of pity, 
anxiety, and fear, with clasped and upraised hands, standing behind, 

SCENE III. — A Rouse near London. 

Enter Elizabetu, l. 1 E., followed bij Steward of the Hoctsehold, 
and Attendants. 

Eliz, There's half an angel wrong'd in your account; 

Metliinks that I am all angel, that I bear it 

Without more ruffling. Cast it o'er again. 
Steward. I were whole devil if I wrong'd you, madam. 

[Exit Steward, l. 1 e. 
Attendant (l.). The Count de Feria, from the King of Spain. 
Eliz. (c. ). Ah! — let him enter. Nay, you need not go ; (<o Ladies) 

Remain within the chamber, but apart. 

We'll have no private conference. [They draw aside, r. 2 e. 

Enter Feria, l. 1 e. 

Welcome to England ! 
Feria. Fair island star, {kneeling, kisses her hand, then rises.) 
Eliz. (c). I shine ! What else, Sir Count 7 

Feria (l. c). As far as Fiance, and into Philip's heart. 

My King would know if you be fairly served, 

And lodged, and treated. 



104 



QUEEN MAKY. [aCX Y. 



Eliz. You see the lodging, sir, 

I am well served, and am in everytliins 
Most loyal and most grateful to the Queen. 
Feria. You should be giateful to my master, too ; 
He spoke of this ; and unto him you owe 

That Mary hath acknowledged you her heir. 
Eliz. No, not to her nor him ; but to the people, 

Who know my right, and love me, as 1 love 
The people ! whom God aid ! 
Feria. You will be Queen, 

And, were I Philip 

Eliz. Wherefore pause you — what 1 

Feria. Nay, but I speak for mine own self, not him : 

Your royal sister cannot last ; your hand 

Will be much coveted ! What a delicate one ! 

Our Spanish ladies have none such — and there, 

Were you in Spain, this fine fair gossamer gold — 

Like sun-gilt breathings on a frosty dawn — 

That hovers round your shoulders — 
Eliz. Is it so fi[ne ? 

Troth, some have said so. 
" Feria. — Would be deemed a miracle. 

" Eliz. Your Philip hath gold hair and golden beard, 

" There must be ladies many with hair like mine. 
" Feria. Some few of Gothic blood have golden hair, 

"But none like yours. 
" Eliz." {saycasticalh/). I am happy you approve it. 
Feria. But as to Philip and your Grace — consider — 

If such a one as you should match with Spain, 

What hinders but that Spain and England join'd 

Should make the mightiest empire earth has known? 

Spain would be England on her seas, and England 

Mistress of the Indies. 
Eliz. It may cliance that England 

Will be the mistress of the Indies yet. 

Without the help of Spain. 
Fekia. Impossible; 

Except you put Spain down. 

Wide of the mai k e'en for a madman's dream. 
Eliz. Perhajos ; but we have seamen. Count de Feria, 

" I take it that the King hath spoken to you; 

" But is Don Carlos such a goodly match 1 
" Feria. Don Carlos, madam, is but twelve years old. 
" Eliz. Ay," tell the King that I will muse upon it. 

He is my good friend, and I would keep him so ; 

But — he would have me Catholic of Rome, 

And that I scarce can be ; and, sir, till now 

My sister's marriage, and my f itlier's marriages, 

Make me full fain to live and die a maid. 

But I am much beholden to your King. 

Have you aught else to tell me 1 
Feria (coldly and annoyed). Nothing, madam. 

Save that methought I gather'd from the Queen 

That she would see your Grace before she — died. 
Eliz. (angrily\ God's death ! and wherefore spake you not before ? 

We dally with our lazy moments here, 

And her's are uumber'd. {with energy) Horses there, without! 



ACT v.] QUEEN MAHY. 105 

I am much beholden to the King, your master. 
Why did you keep me prating "? Horses, there ! 

[Exit Elizabeth, etc., a. 1 e. 
Feria. So, from a clear sky falls the thunderbolt ! 

" Don Carlos 1 " Madatn, if you marry Philip, 
Then I and he will snaffle your " God's death," 
And break your paces in, and maiie you tame ; 
" God's death, forsooth " — you do not know King Philip. 

[Uxit, h. 1 E. 

SCENE IV. — London, Be/ore the Palace. A ligld burning within. 

Two Citizens eriter, l. 1 e. 

First. Is not yon light in the Queen's chamber % 
Second. Ay, 

Tliey say she's dying. 
First. So is Cardinal Pole. 

May the great angels join their wings, and make 
Down for their heads to lieaveu ? 
Second. Amen ! Come on. 

[Ezeunt, k. 1 e. 
Two Otheus enter, l. 1 e. 

First. T-here's the Queen's light, I hear she cannot live. 
Second. " God " curse her and her Legate ! Gardiner burns 

Already ; but to pay them full in kind, 

Tiie hottest hold in all the devil's den 

Were but a sort of winter ; sir, in Guernsey,* 

I watch'd a woman burn ; and in her agony 

The mother came upon her — a child was born — 

And, sir, they luiri'd itbaclj into the fire, 

That, being but baptized in fire, the babe 

Might be in fire forever. Ah, good neighbor, 

There should be something fierier than fire 

To yield them their deserts. 
First. Amen to all 

You wish, and further. 

A Third Citizen enters, k. 1 e. 

Third Citizen. Deserts ! Amen to what ? Whose deserts ? Yours 1 
You have a gold ring on your finger, and soft rainment about your 
bod}- ; and is not tiie woman up yonder sleeping after all she has done, 
in peace and quietness, on a soft bed, in a closed room, witli a light fire, 
physic, tendance; and I have seen " the " true men " of Christ " lying 
famine-dead by scores, and under no ceiling but the cloud that wept on 
tiiem, not for them. 

FiKST. Friend, tho' so late, it is not safe to preach. 
You Iiad best go home. What are you 1 

Third. What am I ? One who cries continually with sweat and tears 
to I he Lord " God that it would please Him out of His infinite love " to 
breakdown all kinsship and queenship, all priesthood and prelacy : to 
cancel and abolish all bonds of human allegiance, all the maL'jstracy, 
all the nobles, and all the wealthy : " and to send us again, according 

* An island in the English Channel. 



106 QUEEN MAKT. [aCT Y. 

" to His promise, the one King, the Christ, and all things in common, 
" as in the day of the first church, when Christ Jesus was King." 
First. If ever I heard a madman — let's away ! 

Why, you long-winded — Sir, you go beyond me. 
I pride myself on being moderate. 
Good-night ! Go home. Besides, you curse so loud, 
The watch will hear you. Get you home at once. 
[Exeunt First and Second Citizens, r. 1 e. Third Citizen, l. 1 e. 

SCENE V. — London. A room in the Palace. 

Lady Clarence, Lady Magdaden Dacres, a«rf Alice, in a group wJiis- 
permg, l. 3 e. — the Queen pacing the gallery. A wriling-tahle, c. — 
Queen comes to the table and icrites and goes again, pacing the gallvnj. 

Lady C. Mine eyes are dim ; what hath she written 1 read. 

Alice [advances to the table, and then draws back). " I am dying, Philip ; 

come to me." 
Lady M. There — up and down, poor lady, up and down. 
Alice, And how her shadow crosses one by one 

The moonlight casements pattern'd ou the wall, 

Following her like her sorrow. She turns again. (Quekx re- 
turns, sits and writes, and goes again.) 
Lady C, What hath she written now 1 
Alice. Nothing; but " come, come, come," and all awry, 

And blotted by her tears. This cannot last. (Queen returns.) 
Mary {in a melancholy tone). 1 whistle to the bird has broken cage, 

And all in vain, (sitting down, r.) 

Calais gone — Guisnes gone, too — and Philip gone ! 
Lady C. Dear madam!| Pliilip is but at the wars ; 

I cannot doubt but that -he comes again ; 

And he is with you in a measure still, 

I never look'd upon so fair a likeness 

As your great King in armor there, his hand 

Upon his helmet, (pointing to the portrait of Philip on the wall.) 
Mary. Doth he not look noble * 

I had heard of him in battle over seas, 

And I would have ray warrior all in arms. 

He said it was not courtly to stand helmeted 

Before the Queen. He had his gracious moment 

Altho' you'll not believe me. How he smiles 

As if he loved me yet ! 
Lady C. (soothingly). And so he does. 

Mary. He never loved me — nay, he could not love me. 

It was his father's policy against France. 

I am eleven years older than he. 

Poor boy. (weeps.) 
" Alice. That was a lusty boy of twenty-seven ; 

"Poor enough in God's grace ! 
'■ Mary." — And all in vain ! 

The Queen of Scots is married to the Dau{)hin, 

And Charles, the lord of this low world is gone ; 

And all his wars and wisdoms i)ast away ; 

And in a moment I shall follow him. 
Lady C. Nay, dearest lady, see your good physician. 
Mary. Drugs — but he knows they cannot help me — says 

That rest is all — tells me I must not think — 



ACT v.] QCKKJf HAItY. 107 

That I must rest — I shall rest by-and-by. 

Catch the wild cat, cage him, and when he springs 

And maims himself aj^ainst the bars, say " rest ;" 

Why, you must kill him if you would have him rest — 

Dead or alive you cannot make him happy. 
Lady C. Your Majesty has lived so pure a life, 

And done such mighty things by Holy Chm-ch, 

I trust that God will make you happy yet. 
Maky. What is the strange thing happiness 1 Sit down here, 

Tell me thine happiest hour. 
Lady C. I will, if that 

May make your Grace forget yourself a little, {sils by Queen) 

There runs a shallow brook across our field 

For twenty miles, where the black crow flies five, 

And doth so bound and babble all the way 

As if itself were happy. It was May-time, 

And I was walking with the man I loved. 

I loved him, but I thought I was not loved. 

And both were silent, letting the wild brook 

Speak for us — till he stoop'd and gather'd one 

From out a bed of thick forget-me-nots, 

Look'd hard and sweet at me, and gave it me ; 

I took it, tho' I did not know I took it. 

And put it in my bosom, and ail at once 

I felt his arms about me, and his lips 

Mary (starting up wildly and with increasing intensity. Lady C. rises and 
stands motionless, gazing with alarm and astonishment). God ! 
I have been too slack, too slack ; 

There are hot Gospellers even among our guards — 

Nobles we dared not touch. We have but burnt 

The heretic priest, workmen, and women and children. 

Wet, famine, ague, fever, storm, wreck, wrath — 

We have so play'd the coward ; but, by God's grace, 

We'll follow Philip's leading, and set up 

The Holy Office here — garner the wheat, 

And burn the tares with unquenchable fire ! 

Burn !— 

Fie, what a savor ! tell the cooks to close^ 

The doors of all the offices below. 

Latimer ! 

Sir, we are private with our women here — 

Ever a rough, blunt, and uncourtly fellow — 

Thou light a torch that never will go out I 

'Tis out — mine flames. Women, the Holy Father 

Has ta'en the legateship from our cousin Pole — 

Was that well donel and poor Pole pines of it, 

As I do, to the death. I am but a woman — 

I have no power. — Ah, weak and meek old man, 

Sevenfold dishonor'd even in the sight 

Of thine own sectaries — No, no. No pardon ! — 

Why, that was false : there is the right hand still 

Beckons me hence. 

Sir, you were burnt for heresy, not for treason, 

Remember that ! 'twas I and Bonner did it. 

And Pole ; we are three to one — Have you found mercy there 1 

Grant it me here : and see ho smiles and goes, 

Gentle as in life. 



108 QUEEN MAEY. [aCX V. 

Alice {softly, advancing). Madam, who goes 1 King Philip 1 
Mary {ivandcrhig). No, Philip comes and goes, but never goes. 

Women, when 1 am tlead, 

Open my heart, and there you will find written 

Two names, Pliilip and Calais; open his — 

So that lie have one — 

You will find Philip only, policy, policy — 

Ay, worse than that — not one hour true to me 1 

Foul maggots crawling in a fester'd vice ! 

Adulterous to the very heart of hell. 

Hast thou a knife ? 

Alice {alarmed). Ay, madam, but o' God's mercy 

Mary. Fool, think'st thou I would peril mine own soul 

By slaughter of the body *? I could not, girl, 

Not this way — callous with a constant stripe, 

Unwoundable. Thy knife ! 
Alice {Icnduuj it with hesitation). Take heed, take heed 1 

Tlie blade is keen as death. 
Mary {ivildly). This Philip shall not 

Stare in upon me in my haggardness ; 

Old, miserable, diseased, 

Incapable of children. Come thou down, {cuts out the p'clure 
and throws it down) 

Lie there, {wails) God, I have killed my Philip, {falls back in 
chair.) 
Alice. No, 

Madam, you have but cut the canvas out ; 

We can replace it. 
Mart {struggles to rise). All is well then ; rest — 

I will to rest ; he said I must have rest, {cries of " Elizabeth " 
in the street) 

{starting up) A cry ! What's that ? Elizabeth '\ revolt 1 

A new Northumberland, another Wyatt "? 

I'll fight it on the threshold of the grave. 
Lady C. (soothingly). Madam, your royal sister comes to see you. 
Maby {savagely). 1 will not see her. 

Who knows if Boleyn's daughter be my sister? 

1 wiii see none except the priest. Your arm. {to Lady C.) 

Saint of Aragon, with that sweet worn smile 

Among thy patient wrinkles. — Help me hence. 

[Exeunt, gallery, r. The Priest passes. 

Enter Elizabeth and Sir William Cecil, l. 1 e. 

Eliz. (c). Good counsel yours — {looking round) 

No one in waiting ? still. 

As if the chamberlain were Death himself! 

The room she sleeps in — is not this the way ? 

No, that way there are voices. Am I too late ? 

Cecil .... God guide me, lest I lose the way. 

[Exit Elizabeth, gallery, r. 
Cecil. Many points weather'd, many perilous ones, 

At last a harbor opens ; but therein 

Sunk rocks — they need fine steering — much it is 

To be nor mad nor bigot- have a mind — 

Not let priests' talk, or dream of worlds to be, 

Miscolor things about her — sudden touches 



ACr V.j aUKKN MAKV. " 109 

For him, or liim — sunk rocks; no passionate failli — 
But — if let be — bakince and compromise; 
Brave, wary, sane to the lieart of her — a Tudor 
School'd by the shadow of death — a Boleyn, too, 
Glancing across the Tudor — not so weik 

Re-enter Alice, 

How is the good Queen now 1 

Alici;. Away from Philip. 

Back in her childhood — pralthng to her niotlier 
Of her betrothal to tlie Emperor Charles. 
And childlike-jealous of him again — " and once 
" She ihank'd her father sweetly for his book 
" Against that godless German." Ah, those days 
Were happy. It was never merry world 
In England, since the Bible came among us. 

" Cecil. And who says that ? 

"Alice. It is a saying among the Catholics." 

Cecil. It never will be merry world in England, 

Till all men have their Bible, rich and poor. 

Alice. The Queen is dying, or you dare not say it. 

Re-enter Elizabeth, agitated. 

Eliz. (advancing, c). The Queen is dead! 

Cecil. Then here she stands! my homage, {kneels.) 

Eliz. She knew me, and acknowledged me her heir, 

Pray'd me to pay her debts, and keep the Faith : 

Then claspt the cross, and pass'd away in peace. 

1 left her lying still and beautiful. 

More beautiful than in life. Why would you vex yourself, 
(Cecil rises) 

Poor sister 1 Sir, I swear I have no heart 

To be your Queen. To reign is restless fence. 

Tierce, quart, and trickery. Peace is with the dead. 

Her life was winter, for her spring was nipt ; 

And she loved much ; pray God she be forgiven. 
Cecil. Peace with the dead, who never were at peace ! 

Yet she lov'd one so much — I needs must say — 

That never Enolish monarch dying left 

England so little. 
Eliz. But with Cecil's aid 

And others, if our person be secured 

From traitor stabs — we will make England great. 

Enter Paget, and other Lords op the Council, Sir Ralph Bagen- 
hall, etc., K. and L. Guards enter, l. of gallery, and range across. 

Lords. God save Elizabeth, the Queen of England ! 

Bag. God save the Crown : " the Papacy is no more. 

" Paget {aside). Are we so sure of that V 

Acclamation (all uncovering). God save the Queen ! 

CURTAm. 




"Sweetest Shake<pere, Nature's child , 

Warbles his native wood-notes wild." — Milton. 

Please notice that nearly all the Comedies, Farces and 
Comediettas in the following List of "Y)e Witt's Acting Plays " 
are very suitable Jor representation in small Amateur Theatres 
and on Parlor Stages, as they need but little extrinsic aid from 
complicated scenery or expensive costumes. They have attained 
their deserved popularity by their droll situations, excellent 
plots, great humor and brilliant dialogues, no less than by the 

fact that they are the most perfect in every respect of any edi- 
tion of Plays ever published either in the United States or 
Europe, whether as regards purity of the text^ accuracy and 

fulness of stage directions and scenery, or elegance of typo- 
graphy and clearness of printing. 

*..;:* In ordering, please copy the figures at the commencement of'each 
piece, whicli indicate the number of the i^iece in "De Witt's List of 
Acting Plays." ^ "^ 

I[^" Any of the following Plaj-s sent, postage free, on receipt of 
price — fifteen cents. 

Address, ROBERT M. DE WITT, 

JVo. S.? Hose Street, J^en> York. 

EE ""WITT^S ACTIUG I'l-AirS- 

No. 

1 CASTE. An original Comedy in three acts, by T. W. 

Robertson. A lively and cflfctivu saiire upon the times, played successfully in 
America, at Wallack's. Five male and thre^ female characters. Costumes, 
modern. Scenery, the flrst and third acts, interior of a neat room ; the second 
a fashionable room. Time in representation, two hours and forty minutes. 

2 NOBODY'S CHILD. A romantic Drama in three acts, by 

Watts Phillips. Eighteen male and three female characters. A domestic 
drama, wonderfully successful in London, as it aboundn in stirring scenes 
and capital situations. Costumes modern, suited to rural life in Wales. 
Scenery is wild and picturesque. Time in representation, two hours and a 
quarter. 

3 £100,000. An orip-xnal Comedy in three acts, by Henry J. 

Byron. Eight male and four female characters. A most effective piece, 
played with applause at Wallack"s. Costumes of the day. Two scenes are 
required— a comfortably furnished parlor and an elegant apartment. Time 
in representation, one hour and three quarters. ^ 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



No. 

28 A HAPPY PAIR. A Comedietta in one act, by S. 

Theyre Smith. One male and one female character. A neat dramatic 
eltetcli of a conjugal niisundorstaudlnf;. Modtjrn dresaos. Scene, a drawing 
room. Tiuiu in rcprcioutatioii, twenty miuutes. 

29 TURNING THE TABLES. A Tare© in one act, by John 

Poole. Five male and three female characters. One of the happiest efforts 
of the famous author of " Paul Pry." The part of Jereminh Bumps is re- 
dolent with quaint humor. A standard actin<? piece. Dresses and scenery 
of the present day. Time in rcpreseniation, sixty-five minutes. 

30 THE GOOSE -WITH TH^ G3I.DEN EGGS. A Farce 

in one act. by Aus^ustus Mayhew and Sutherland Edwards. Five male and 
tliree female" characters, (jay, rolUcliiug, full of incessant action, having 
three of the most comical characters ima^'inable. Costumes of the present 
period. Scene, alavvycr's office. Time lu representation, forly-fivo minutes. 

31 TAMING A TIGER. A Farce in one act, altered from 

the French. Three male characters. In this a dashing li^ht comedian and 
fiery, petulant' old man cannot fail to extort appluuse. Modern dresses : and 
ecene, a modern apartment. Time in representation, twenty five minutes. 

32 THE LITTLE REBEL. A Fa'-ce in one act, by J. Ster- 

ling Coyne. Four male and three female characters. An excellent piece 
for a spriglitly youn^; actress. Dresses and scenery of the present day. Easy 
of producliou. Time in representation, about forty-five minutes. 

33 ONE TaO MANY FOR HIM. A Farce in one act, by 

Thomas J. Williams. Two male and three female characters. Adapted 
from a popular French vaudeville. Costume of the time. Scene, parlor 
in country house. Time of representation, fifty minutes. 

34 LARKIN'S LOVE LETTERS. A Farce in one act, by 

Thomas J. Williams. Three mule and two female characters. The piece 
has excellent parts for first low comedy — first old man and a soubrette. 
Dresses of the day. Scene, a parlor. Time in representation, forty minutes. 

35 A SILENT WOMAN. A Farce in one act, by Thomas 

Hailea Lacy. Two male and one female characters. One of the prettiest 
little pieces on the English stage. Dresses of the period. Scene, a drawing 
room. Time in representation, thirty-flve minutes. 

36 BLACK SHEEP, a Drama in th^en acts, from Edmund 

Yates' novel of the same name, and arranged for the stage by J. Palgrave 
Simpson and the author. Seven male and five female characters. Costumes 
of the present time. Scenery, an inti'rior ; gardens at Homburg, and a 
handsome parlor. Time in playing, two and a half hours. 

37 A SILENT PROTESTOR. A Farce in otie act by Thom- 

as J. Williams. Three male and two female characters. An active, bust- 
ling piece of ingenuity, which affords abundant opportunities for the display 
of Quickftdget's eccentricities. Costumes of the period. Scene, a drawing 
room. Time in representation, forty minutes. 

38 THE RIGHTFUL HEIR. A Drama in five acts, by Lord 

Lytton (Sir Edward Lytton Bulvver). Ten male and two female characteis. 
A revision and improvement of tne autlior's play of the "Sea Captain," 
originally producetl under management of Mr. Macready. Costumes of the 
English Elizabethan period, armor, doublets, tights, &c. Scenery pictu- 
resque and elaborate. The play contains numerous scenes and passages, 
which could be selected for declamation. Time in representation, two hours 
and forty-five mltmtea. 

39 MASTER JONES' BIRTHDAY. A Farce in one act, by 

John Maddison Morton. Four male and two female characters. A very 
amusing and effective composition, particnlarly suited to amateurs. Dresses 
of the day ; and scene, a plain interior. Time of playing, thirty minutes. 

40 ATCHI. A Comedietta in one act, by John Maddison 

Morton. Three male and two female characters. A gem in pleasantry, 
whose conclusion is irresistibly comic. Costume of the day. Scene, a taste- 
fully laid out garden. Time iu representation, forty minutes. 



DE V/ITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



41 BEAUTIFUL FORi:VER. A Parce in one ac*, by Fred- 

eriulv Hay. Twv) male and two femaie churaclers. A sprightly sutirical re- 
buke lo llio^e t.iut patronize advertised nostrums. Costumes of ttie day. 
Scene, a huudso..ici interior. Time in representation, forty minutes. 

42 TIME AND TrlE HOUR. A Drama m tiiree acts, by 

J Palgrave Simpson and Felix Dale. Seven male and three female charac- 
ters. An excellent acting play, full of life and incident, the parts of 
Medlicott and .Marian Beck being capable of impressive representation— all 
otiKis Liood. Costumes of the pre.sent period. Scenery, gardens and ex- 
terior, cotiaiie and gai den, and an old oaken chamber. Time in representa- 
tion, two liours and a half. 

43 SISTERLY SERVICE. An original Comedietta in one 

act, by J. P. Wooler. Seven male and two female characters. An interest- 
ing piece. Costumes;, rich dresses of the musketeers of Louis XIII. 
Scenes, an aiiartment of that period, and a corridor in the royal palace of 
Kranc2. Time in representalioa, forty minutes. 

44 WAR TO THE KNIFE, a Comedy in three acts, by 

Henry J. Uyron. Five male and four female characters. A pleasing, enter- 
taining and morally instructive lesson as to extravagant livinfi ; capitally 
adapted to the stage. Costumes of the present time. Scenes, three interiors. 
Time in representation, one hour and three quarters. 

45 OUR DOMESTICS. A Cometly Farce in two acts, by 

Frederick Hay. Six male and six female characters. An irresistibly face- 
■ tions exposition of high life below stairs, and ol the way in which servants 
treat employers during their abseme. Costumes of the day. Scenes, 
kitchen and dining room. Time in representation, one hour and a half. 

46 MIRIAM'S CRIME. A Drama in three acts, by H. T. 

Craven. Fi\e n;al and two female characters. One ol the best acting plays, 
and easily put on the stage. Costumes modern. Scenery, modern English 
interiors, two iii number. Time in representation, two hours. 

47 EASY SHAViNG. A Farce in one act, by F. C. Bur- 

nand and ]\I ntagu Williams. Five male and two female characters. A 
neat and effective piece, with excellent parts for low comedian and singing 
chambermaid. Cosiumesof the days of Charles II of England. Scene, a 
barber's shop. Time in representation, twenty-live minutes. 

48 LITTLE ANNIE'S BIRTHDAY. An original persona- 

tion P'arce, by \V. E. Suler. Two male and four female characters. A 
good farce, who^e effectiveness depends upon a singing young lady, who 
could make the piece a sure success. Costumes modern. Scene, an apart- 
ment in an English country house. Time in representation, tweniy-live 
minutes. 

49 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. A Drama in one act, by 

J. Maddison Morton. Eigiit male and two female characters. A successful 
little play. Costumes of the time of the French Revolution of 17<J5. Scene, 
the platform of a fortress. Time in representation, one hour. 

50 THE PORTER'S KNOT. A serio-comic Drama in two 

acts, by John Oxenford. Eight male and two female characters. Interest- 
ing and thoroughly dramatic. Costumes of the day. Scenes, an interior of 
cottage and exterior of seaside hotel. Time in representation, one hour and 
a quarter. 

51 A MODEL OF A W^IFE. A Farce in one act, by Alfred 

Wigan. Thre^male and two female, characters. Most amusing in concep- 
tion and admirably carried out. Costumes of the day. Scene, a palmer's 
studio. Time in representation, thirty-live minutes. 

52 A CUP OF TEA. A Comedietta in one ac+. Translated 

from the French of Une Tasse de The, by Charles Nuttier and J. Derley. 
Three male and one female characters. Ar exquisite petty comedy, well 
adapted for amateur representation. Costumes modern. Scene, handsome 
drawing room. Time la representation, thirty minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



53 GERTRUDE'S MONEY BOX. A Farce in one act, Tiy 

Harry Lemon. Four male and two female characters. A successful, well 
written piece; un incident in rural life. Costumes of the present time. 
Scene, interior of a cottage. Time in representation, forty-five minutes. 

54 THE YOUNG COLLEGIAN (The CantaTb). A Farce in 

one act, by T. W. Robertson. Three male and two female characters. A 
rattling piece, filled with ludicrous situations, which could be splendidly 
worked up by a good light comedian. Costumes modern ; and scene, a 
handsome interior. Time in representation, fifty minutes. 

55 CATHARINE HO"WARB ; or, the Throne, the Tomh 

and the Scaffold. An historical play in three acts [from the celebrated 
play of that name, by Alexander Dum<is] ; adapted by W. D. Suter. Twelve 
male and five female characters. A most suecessful acting drama in both 
France and England. Costumes of the period of Henry \III of England, 
artistic and rich. Scenery elaborate and historical. Time in representa- 
tion, two hours and a half. 

58 TWO GAY DECEIVERS ; or, Black, TVhite and Gray. 

A Farce in one act by T. W. Robertson. Three male characters. Adapted 
from the French of one of the most laughable vaudevilles on the Parisian 
stage. Costumes of present day. Scene, a cell in a police station. Time in 

representation, forty minutes. 

57 NOEMIE. A Drama in txiro acts, translated and adapt- 

ed from the French of Dennery and Clement by T. W. Robertson. Four 
male and four female characters. Originally. acted in Paris, this piece created 
eucli a sensation that it was produced subsequently at all the leading theatres 
of London. Costumes modern. Scenery, a garden scene and" a richly 
furnished interior. Time in representation, one hour and a half. Easily 
put on the stage. 

58 DEtORAH (LEAH); or, the Jewish Maiden's Wrong. 

A Drama in three acts, by Charles Smith Cheltnam. Seven male aiul six 
female characters. A str.iugely effective acting play. Costumes pictur- 
esque yet fiimplc. Scenery elaborate and cuuiber.some to handle. Time in 
representation, two hours and fifteen minutes. Elegant extracts can be 
taken from this drama. 

59 THE POST BOY. An original Drama in two acts, Ijy 

H. T. Craven. Five male and three female characters. Very successful. 
Costumes modern. Scenery, two interiors. Time of playing, an hour and 
a half. 

60 THE HIDDEN HAND; or, the Gray Lady of Perth 

Veniion. A Drama in four acts, by Tom Taylor. Five male and live female 
cbaracters. Costumes of the period of James II of England. Scenery 
somewhat elaborate. Time in representation, tw.j hours anti a half. 

61 PLOT AND PASSION. A Drama in three acts [from 

the French], by Tom Taylor. Seven male and two female characters. A 
neatand well construct.cdplay, admii-ably adapted to amateur representation. 
Costumes of the period of the First Empire, rich and attractive. Scenes, an 
interior in a French mansion, and one in a country villa. Time in represen- 
tation, one hour and a half. 

62 A PHOTOGRAPHIC FIX. A Farce in one act, hy 

Frederick Ilay. Three male and two female characters. A brilliant, witty 
production. Costumes of the day. Scene, a photographic room. Time in 
representation, thirty-five minutes. 

63 MARRIAGE AT ANY PRICE. A Farce in one act, by 

J P. Wooler. Five male and three female characters. A decided success in 
London. Costumes of the day. Two scenes, a plain chamber and a garden. 
Time in representation, thirty minutes. 

64 A ^lOU EHOLD FAIRY. A domestic Sketch in one act, 

by Fr.niicisTalfourd. One male and one female character. A gem in its line; 
artistic, dramatic and very natural. Modern costumes, and scene a poorly 
furnished apartment. Time in playing, twenty-five minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



65 CHECKMATE. A Comedy in two acts, Tiy Andrew Hal- 

liday. !Six male and five fenialu cliaractersi. Costumes, En<»li8h, of the pres- 
ent "day. Scenes, interior of a country hotel, and exterior of same, with 
hmdscape. Time iu representation, one liour and a half. 

86 THE ORANGE GIRL. A Drama in a prologue and 

three acts, by Harry Leslie and Nicholas Kovve. Eighteen male and four 
female characters. Co*<tumes of the present day ; thi.-i piece requires con- 
siderable scenery, and some of an especial nature. Time iu representation, 
two hours and a quarter 

67 THE BIRTHPLACE OF PODGERS. A Farce in one 

act, by John Hollingshead. Seven male and three female characters. A 
capital actinia extravaganza, introducing a number of eccentric personages. 
Costumes of the i)resent time, fcjcene, a workingman's room. Time in repre- 
sentation, forty minutes. 

68 THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. A Drama in 

three acts, adapted from the French of MM. Velesvillc and Roger de Beauvoir, 
by T. W. llobertsoii. Nine male and three female characters. A very popu- 
lar and favorite play. Costumes, very rich, in velvet, court and hunting 
dresses, breeches, stockings, &c Scenery, a tavern and garden, an interior, 
style Louis Seize, and a plainer interior. Time in representation, one hour 
and a half. 

69 CAUGHT BY THE CUFF. A Farce in one act, Tjy 

Frederick Hay. Four male and one female characters. An exquisitely 
ludicrous production, crammed with situations. Costumes of the day. 
Scene, a kitchen. Time in representation, forty minutes. 

TO THE BONNIE FISHTVIFE. A Farce in one act, Tjy 

Charles Selby, Comedian. Three male and one female characters. A ver^' 
sprightly piece, iu which the lady is required to sini;, and to be capable of 
assuming the Scottish dialect. The costumes, although modern, involve 
eccentric Scottish and deer stalking dresse.«. Scenes, a handsome chamber 
and interior of Highlantl cottage. Time of playing, forty-tive minutes. 

71 DOING FOR THE BEST. A domestic Drama in two 

acts, by I\!. Kophino Lacy. Five male and three female characters. An 
etfective acting i)iece, popular in London. Costuures of the day. Two scenes, 
one interior of cottage, the other a drawing room. Time in representation, 
one hour and a half. 

72 A LAME EXCUSE. A Farce in one act, hj Frederick 

Hay. Four male and two female characters. Costumes of the day. Scene, 
a handsome interior. Time in represeution, thirty-live minutes. 

73 A GOLDEN FETTER (FETTERED). A Drama in three 

acts, by Watts Phillips. Kleven male and four female characters. Costumes 
of the present time. Scenery extensive and peculiar to the piece. Time in 
representation, one hour and a half. 

74 THE GARRICK FEVER. A Farce in one act, by J. R. 

Planche, Seven male and fo\ir female characters. C'ostnmes of the year 
174a— court dresses, regimentals, velvet trains, &c. Scenery, a plain interior. 
Time of representation, forty-five minutes. 

75 ADRIENNE ; or, the Secret of a Life. Drama in three 

acts, by Harry Leslie. Seven male and three female characters. A telling 
romantic drama. Italian and French costumes, civil and military. Scenery, 
elaborate interiors and landscapes. Time in representation, one hour aiid 
forty-five minutes. 

78 THE CHOPS OF THE CHANNEL. An original Nauti- 
cal Farce in one act, by Frederick Hay. Three male and two female 
characters. A very mirth exciting and whimsical composition. Costumes 
of the present day. Scene, the saloon of a steamer. Time iu representation, 
forty minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



77 THE ROLIi OF THE DRUM. A romantic Drama in 

three acts, by Thomas Egerton Wilks. Eight male and four female charac- 
ters. A standard i)iece with the British theatres. Costumes of the period of 
the first French revolution. Scenery, interior of a farm house, a picturesque 
landscape and a drawing room. Time in representation, one hour and forty- 
five minutes. 

78 SPECIAL PERFORMANCES. A Farce in one act, by 

Wilmot Harrison. Seven male and three lemale characters. A most ludi- 
crous, ingenious and sprightly production. Dresses of the present day. 
Scene, a chamber. Time in performance, forty minutes. 

79 A SHEEP IN W^OLF'S CliOTHING. A domestic Drama 

in one act, freely adapted from Madame de Girardin's " Uiie Fenvme qui 
deteste Son Mari," by Tom Taylor. Seven male and five female characters. 
A neat and pleasing domestic play, founded upon incidents following Mon- 
mouth's rebellion. Costumes of the time of James II of England. Scene, a 
tapestried chamber. Time of playing, one hour. 

80 A CHARMING PAIR. A Farce in one act, by Thomas 

J. Williams. Four male and three female characters. Costumes of the pre- 
sent day. Scene, a handsomely furnished apartment. Time in representa- 
tion, forty minutes. 

81 VANDYKE BROWN. A Farce in one act, by Adolphus 

Charles Troughton. Three male and three female characters. Popular 
wherever performed. Costumes of the present day. Scene, a chamber, 
backed by a window. Time of representation, one hour. 

82 PEEP O' DAY; or, Savonrneen Dheelish. An Irish 

romantic Drama in four acts (derived fronj " Tales of the O'llara F^amily"), 
by Eduiund Falconer. The New " Drury Lane'' version. Twelve male and 
four female characters. Costumes, Irish, in the year 1798. Scenery, illustra- 
tive of Munster. Time in representation, three hours. 

83 THRICE MARRIED. A personation piece in one act, 

by Howard Paul. Six male and one female characters. The lady sings, 
dances and assumes personiflcation of a French vocalist, of a Spanish dancer 
and of a man of fashion. Costumes of the day. Scene, a room in a lodging 
house. Time in representation, three quarters of au hour. 

Si >T GUILTY. A Drama in f 3ur acts, by Watts Phillips, 

en male and six female characters. A thrilling drama found upon a fact. 

tostumes of the present day. Scenery illustrative of localities about 
Southampton and its harbor, and of others iu India. Time in representa- 
tion, three hours. 

85 LOCKED IN "WITH A LADY. A Sketch from Life, 

by II. K. Addison. One male and one female character. A very pleas- 
inirand humorous interlude. Costume of the day, and scene a bachelor's 
apartment. Time in representation, thirty-five minutes. 

86 THE LADY OF LYONS; or. Love and Pride. A Play in 

five acts, by Lord Lytton (Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer). Twelve male five 
female characters. Four of the male characters are veiy good ones ; and 
Pauline, Madame De~chapelles and the Widow Melnotte are each excellent 
in their line. The piece abounds in eloquent declamation and spurklin? 
dialogue. This edition is the most complete in all respects ever issued. It 
occupies three hours in representation. The scenery, gardens and interior 
of cottage and mansion. Costumes French, of 1795. 

87 LOCKED OUT. A Comic Scene, illustrative of what may 

occur after dark in a great metropolis ; by Howard Paul. One male and two 
female characters, with otliers unimportant. Scene, a street ; dress, mod- 
ern. Time in playing, thirty minutes. 

88 FOUNDED ON FACTS. A Farce in one act, by J. P. 

Wooler. Four male and two female characters. A favorite acting piece, 
easily put on the stage and never failing in success. Costumes of the pres- 
ent day. Scene, a hotel parlor. Time in representation, thirty-five minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



89 AUNT CHARILOTTE'S MAID. A Farce in mo p. t, ; 

J. Maddison .Morton. Tiirec uiak- anil three ftmale characters. One of Ih 
best of this prolific humorist'H dramatic pieces, la-esses of the period, and j 
scene an apartment iu a dwelling house. Time in representation, forty 
minutes. 

90 ONLY A HALFPENNY. A Farce in on© act, by John 

Oxenford. Two male and two female characters. Dresses of the jiresent 
day, and scene an elegantly furnished interior. Time iu representation, 
thirty-live minutes. 

91 WALPOLE ; or, Every Man has his Price. A Comedy in 

rhyme, bv Lord Lytton. Seven male and two female characters. Costumes 
of "the period of (ieorge I of England. Scenery illustrative of London locali- 
ties, and residences of the same era. Time of playing, one hour and ten 
minutes. 

92 MY WIFE'S OUT. A Farce in one act, by G. Herbert 

Rodwell. Two male and two female characters. This piece had a suc- 
cessful run at the > ovent Garden Theatre, London. Costume modern, and 
scene an artist's studio. Time in represeniation, forty minutes. 

93 THE AREA BELLE. A Farce in one act, by "William 

Brough and Ar.drew Ilalliday. Three male and two female characters. 
Costumes of the present time, and scene a kitchen. Time in performing, 
thirty minutes. 

94 OUR CLERKS ; or, No. 3, Fig Tree Conrt, Temple. An 

original Farce, in one act. Seven male and five female characters. Costumes 
modern, and scene a large sitting room solidly furnished. Time in represen- 
tation, sixty-five minutes. 

95 THE PRETTY HORSE BREAKER. A Farce, by W^il- 

liam Brough and Andrew Ilalliday. Three male and ten female characters. 
Costumes modern English, and scene a brealifast room in a f ashionble man- 
sion. Time of playing, forty-five minutes. 

96 DEAREST MAMMA. A Comedietta in one act, by W^al- 

ter Gordon. Four male and three female characters. Costume modern 
English, and scene a drawing room. Time in representation, one hour. 

97 ORANGE BLOSSOMS. A Comedietta in one act, by J. 

P. Wooler. Three male and three female characters. Costume of the 
present day, and scene, a garden with, summer house. Time in playing, 
fifty minutes. 

98 W^HO IS W^HO ? or, All in a Fog. A Farce, adapted 

from the French, by Thomas J. Williams. Three male and two female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern English dresses, as worn by country gentry ; and 
scene, parlor, in an old fashioned country house. Time of playing, thirty 
minutes. 

99 THE FIFTH W^HEEL. A Comedy in three acts. Ten 

male and two female characters. An excellent American production, easily 
managed. Costumes of the modern day. Scenery not complicated. Time 
of representation, about one hour and three quarters. 

100 JACK LONG. A Drama in two acts, by J. B. John- 

stone. Nine male and two female characters. Costume of the frontiers. 
Scenery illustrative of localities on the Texan frontier. Time of perform- 
ance, one hour and twenty minutes. 

101 FERN ANDE ; or. Forgive and Forajet. ADramainthree 

acts, by Victorien Saidou. Eleven male and ten female characters. This 
is a correct version of the celebrated plav as performed in Paris and adapt- 
ed to the Ei.glish stage, by Henry L. Williams, Jr. Costumes, modern 
French. Scenery, four interiors. Time In representation, three hoiu-s. 

102 FOILED; or, a Struggle for Life and Liberty. A Drama 

in four acts, by O. W. Cornish. 9 males, 3 females. Co.stnmes. modern 
American. Scenery — a variety of scenes required, but none elaborate. 
Time in representation, three and a half hours. 



103 FAUST AND MARGUERITE. A romantic Drama in 

three acts, translnted from the Krench of Michel Carre, by 'I'liomas 
William Robertson. Nine male and seven female characters. Costumes 
German, of the sixteenth century ; doublets, trunks, tights. Scenery, a 
laboratory, tavern, garden, street and tableau. Time in representation, 
two hours. 

104 NO NAME. A Drama in five acts, by "Wilkie Collins. 

Seven male and five female characters. A dramatization of the author's 
popular novel of the same name. Costumes of the present day. Scenery, 
four interiors and a sea view. Time in representation, three hours. 

105 WHICH OF THE TWO. A Comedietta in one act, by 

John M. Morton. Two male and ten female characters. A very neat and 
interesting pe'.ty come ly. Costume Russian. Scene, public room of an 
Inn. Time of playing, fifty minutes. 

106 UP FOR THE CATTLE SHOW^. A Farce in one act, 

by Harry Lemon. Six male and two female characters. Costumes Eng- 
lish, of the present day. Scene, a parlor. Time in representation, forty 
minutes. 

107 CUPBOARD LOVE. A Farce in one act, by Frederick 

Ilay. Two male and one female characters. A good specimen of broad 
comedy. Dresses modern, and scene, a neatly furnished apartment. 
Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

108 MR. SCROGGINS; or, Change of Name. A Force in 

one act, by William Hancock. Three male and three female characters. 
A lively piece. Costumes of the present day. Scene, a drawing room. 
Time in representation, forty minutes. 

109 LOCKED IN. A Comedietta in one act, by J. P. W^ool- 

er. Two male and two female characters. Costumes of the period. Scen*^, 
a drawing room. Time in representation, thirty minutes. 

110 POPPLETON'S PREDICAMENTS. A Farce in one 

act, by Charles M. Rae. Three male and six female characters. Costumes 
of the day. Scene, a drawing room. Time in representation, forty min- 
utes. 

111 THE LIAR. A Camody in two acts, by Samuel Foote. 

Seven male aud two female characters. One of the best actina: plays in 
any language. Costumes, embroidered court dresses, silk sacques, &c ; 
still the modern dress will suffice. Scenes — one, a park, the other a diaw- 
ing room. Time in representation, one hour and twenty minntes. This 
edition, as altered by Charles Mathevrs, is particularly adapted for amateurs. 

112 NOT A BIT JEALOUS. A Farce in one act, by T. W^. 

Robertson. Three male and three female characters. Costumes of the 
day. Scene, a room. Time of playing, forty minutes. 

113 CYRIL'S SUCCESS. A Comedy in five acts, by Henry 

J. Byron. Ten male and four feaiale characters. Costumes modern. 
Scenery, four interiors. Time in representation, tliree hours twenty 

minutes. 

114 ANYTHING FOR A CHANGE. A petite Comedy in 

one act, by Shirley Brooks. Three male and three female characters. 
Costumes present day. Scene, an interior. Time iu representation, fifty- 
one minutes. 

115 NEW MEN AND OLD ACRES. A Comedy in three 

acts by Tom Taylor. Eight male aud five female characters. Costumes 
present day. Scenery somewhat complicated. Time in representation, 
two hours. 

116 I'M NOT MESILF AT ALL. An original Irish Stew 

in one act, by C. A. Maltby. Three male and two female characters. Cos- 
tume of present day, undress uniform, Irish peasant and Highland dress. 
Scene, a room. Time in playing twenty-eight minutes. 



•v> DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



117 NOT SUCH A POOL AS HE LOOKS. A farcical 

Drama in tlifcc acts, by Ileiiry J. Byron. Five male and four female char- 
acters. E.vcellent for amateurs. Costumes of the day. Scenery, three 
interiors. Time in representation, two hours. 

118 WANTED, A YOUNG LADY. A Farce in oxie act, by 

W. R Suter. Three male characters. Effective for amateurs. Costumes 
of the day. Scene, a room. Time in playing, forty minutes. 

119 A LIFE CHASE. A Drama in five acts, I13' Adolplx 

Belot ; transhited by John Oxenford and Horace Wigan. Fourteen male 
and live female characters. Costumes modern French. Scenery elaborate. 
Time in representation, two hours and twenty minutes. 

120 A TEMPEST IN A TEAPOT. Petite Comedy in one 

act. Two male and one female characters. Admirably adapted for private 
performance. Costumes of the day. Scene, an interior. Time of repre- 
sentation, thirty-tive minutes. 

121 A COMICAIi COUNTESS. A Farce in one act, by "Wil- 

liam Brough. Three male and one female characters. Costumes French, 
of last century. Scene, a drawing room. Time in representation, forty 
minutes. 

122 ISABELLA ORSINI. A romantic Drama in four acts, 

by S. II. Moseuthal. Eleven male and four female characters. Costumes 
Italian, three hundred years ago. Scenery complicated. Time in repre- 
sentation, three and a half hours. 

123 THE TWO POLTS. A Farce in one act, by John 

Courtney. Pour male and four female characters. Costumes modern. 
Scenery, a street and two interiors. Time in representation, forty-fiv« 
minutes. 

124 THE VOLUNTEER REVIEW^ ; or. The Little Man in 

Green. A Farce in one act, by Thomas J. Williams. Six male and six 
female characters. Easily localized, as the '• Home Guard," or "Militia 
Muster." Costumes of the day ; and scene, a room. Time in representa- 
tion, forty-Jive minutes. 

125 DEERFOOT. A Farce in one act, by T. C. Bnrnand. 

Five male and one female characters. Costumes of the day; and scene, a 
public house. Time in playing, thirty-five minutes. 

126 TW^ICE KILLED. A Farce in one act, by John Ox- 

enford. Six male and three female characters. Costumes mod-ern ; scene, 
landscape and a drawing room. Time in playing, forty-flve minutes. 

127 PEGGY GREEN. A Farce in one act, by Charles Selby. 

Three male aud ten female characters. Costumes of the present day. 
Scene, a country road. Time in representation, forty-five minutes. 

128 THE FEMALE DETECTIVE ; or. The Mother's Dying 

Child. A Drama in three acts, by C. H. Haalevvood. Eleven male and 
four female characters. Costumes of fifty years since. Scenery very 
elaborate. Time of playing two hours. -^ 

129 IN FOR A HOLIDAY. A Farce in one act, by F. C. 

Burnand. Two male and three female characters. Costumes of ttie period, 
and scene an interior. Time in performance, thirty-five minutes. 

130 MY W^IFE'S DIARY. A Farce in one act. From the 

French of MM. Dennery and Clairville, by T. W. Kobertson. Three male 
and one female characters. Costumes modern French, and scene a drawing 
room. Time in representation, fifty minutes. 

131 GO TO PUTNEY. A Faroe in one act, by Harry 

Lemon. Four male and three female characters. Excellent for amateurs. 
Costumes of the day ; scene, a drawipg room. Time in representation, 
forty -five minute,^. 



DE -WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



132 A RACE FOR A DINNER. A Farce in one act, by 

J. F. G. Kodwell. Ten male characters. A sterling piece. Costumes of 
the day. Scene, a tavern exterior. Time in representation, sixty minutes. 

133 TIMOTHY TO THE RESCUE. A Farce in one act, 

by Henry J. Byron. Four male and two female characters. In this 
laughable piece Spangle assumes several personifications. Costumes of 
the day, and scene a plain interior. Time in representation, forty-five 
minutes. 

134 TOMPKINS, THE TROUBADOUR. A Farce in one 

act, by MM. Lockroy and Marc Michel. Three male and two female char- 
acters. Costumes modern, and scene an ironmonger's shop. Time in play- 
ing, thirty-five minutes. 

135 EVERYBODY'S FRIEND. A Comedy in thfee acts, 

by J. Sterling Coyne. Si.K male and five female characters. Costumes 
modern, and scenery three interiors. Time in performance, two and a 
half hours. 

136 THE WOMAN IN RED. A Drama in three acts and 

Prologue, by J. Sterling Coyne. Six male and eight female characters. 
Costumes French and Italian. Scenery complicated. Time of playing, 
three hours and twenty-five minutes. 

137 L' ARTICLE 47; or Breaking the Ban. A Drama in 

three acts, by Adolph Belot, adapted to the English stage by Henry L. 
Williams. Eleven male and five female characters. Costumes French, 
of the day. Scenery elaborate. Time in representation, three houre and 
ten minutes. 

138 POLL AND PARTNER JOE : or, The Pride of Put- 

ney and the Pressing Pirate. A Burlesque in one act and four scones, by 
F. C. Burnand. Ten male and three female characters. (Many sf the male 
characters are perfoiTned by ladies.) Costumes modern, and scenery local. 
Time of playing, one hour. 

139 JOY IS DANGEROUS. A Comedy in two acts, hy 

James Mortimer. Three male and three female characters. Costume, 
modern French. Scenery, two interiors. Time in representation, one 
hour and forty-five minutes. 

140 NEVER RECKON YOUR CHICKENS, &e. A Farce 

in one act, by Wybert Reeve. Three male and four female characters. 
Modern costumes, and scene, an interior. Time in representation, forty 
minutes. 

141 THE BELLS ; or, the Polish Jew. A romantic moral 

Drama in three acts, by MM. Erckmann andChatrain. Nine male and three 
female characters. Costumes Alsatian, of present date. Scenery, two 
interiors and a court room. Time of playing, two hours and twenty min- 
utes. 

142 DOLLARS AND CENTS. An oriscinal Am&rican Com- 

edy in three acts, by L. J. HoUenius, as performed by the Murray Hill 
Dramatic Associ;ition. Nine mule and four female characters. Costumes 
modern, and scenery, three interiors and one garden. Time in represen- 
tation, two and three quarter hours. 

143 LODGERS AND DODGERS. A Farce in one act, by 

Frederick Hay. Four male and two female characters. Costumes of 
the present tirne. Scene, a furnished apartment. Time in representation, 
twenty-five minutes. One character a Yorkshire farmer. 

144 THE LANCASHIRE LASS ; or, Tempted, Tried and 

True. A domestic Melodrama in four acts and a Prologue, by Henry J. 
Byron. Twelve male and three female characters. Costumes of the pres- 
ent day. Scenery, varied and difficult. Time in representation, three 
hours. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



145 FIRST liOVE. A Comedy in one act, by Eugene Scribe. 

Adapted to the American stajie by L. J. Hollonius. Four male and one 
female characters. Suitable for amateurs. Modern costumes, and scene, 
a parlor. Time in playing, forty-five minutes. 

146 THERE'S NO SMOKE ^WITHOUT FIRE. A Come- 

dietta in one act, by Thomas Picton. One male and two female churac- 
terii. Costumes of the present day, and scene, an apartment. Time in 
representation, forty minutes. 

147 THE OVERLAND ROUTE. A Comedy in three acts, 

by Tom Taylor. Eleven male and five female characters. Costumes East 
Indian (Kuropeau). Scenery, stcamshi]) saloon and declv, and coral reef. 
Time in representation, two hours and forty minutes. 

148 CUT OFF 'WITH A SHILLING. A Comedietta in 

one act, by S. Theyre Smith. Two male and one female characters. Scene, 
a drawing room. Time in playing, twenty-five minutes. 

149 CLOUDS. An American Comedy in four acts, by Fred. 

JIarsden (\V. A. Sliver). Eight male and seven female characters. Cos- 
tumes of the day. Scenery, cottage, river scene and drawing rooms. Time 
in representation, three hours. 

150 A TELL-TALE HEART. A Comedietta in one act, by 

Thomas Picton. One male and two female characters. Excellent for 
private rejiresentation. (Costumes of the day. Scene, a villa room. Time 
in representation, forty minutes. 

151 A HARD CASE. A Farce in one act, by Thomas 

Picton. Two male cliaracters. A most ludicrous piece for two performers. 
Costumes of the day. Scene, an interior. Time in playing, thirty-five 
minutes. 

152 CUPID'S EYE-GLASS. A Comedy in one act, by 

Thomas Picton. One male and one female characters. Adapted for ama- 
teur performance. Costumes of the day, and scene, a drawing room. 
Time in representation, twenty-five minutes. 

153 'TIS BETTER TO LIVE THAN TO DIE. A Farce 

in one act, by Thomas Picton. Two male and one female characters. Can 
be played readily and effectively by amateurs. Costumes, modem, and 
scene, an anisl's studio. Time iu representation, forty minutes. 

154 MARIA AND MAGDALEN A. A Play in four acts, by 

L. J. Hollenius. Eight male, six female characters. An uniformly good 
stock company is alone needed to properly produce this charming piece. 
Costumes modern. Scenery, fine interiors and beautiful gardens. Time 
in representation, three hours. 

155 OUR HEROES. A Military Play in five acts, eight 

allegorical tableaux, and ten grand pictures, including a grand transfor- 
mation tableau, by John B. Renauld. Twenty-four male and five 
female characters. Large parties *f retired volunteers can appear with 
great effect in this play. Costumes modern, civil and military. Scenery, 
interiors of dwellings, enc;unpments and battle-fielas. 

156 PEACE AT ANY PRICE. A Farce in one act, by T. 

W. Robertson. One male and one female characters ; but a variety of 
voices are heard thronghout the piece, the speakers being invisible. A 
capital sketch for two lively amateur comedians. Costume modern. 
Scenery— there is but one scene throughout the piece— a meanly furnished 
apartment. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

157 QUITE AT HOME. A Comedietta in one act, by Arthur 

Sketciiley. Five male and two female characters. A real lively taking 
jsicce. All the char:icters passable. Costumes modern. Scenery, a shab- 
bily furnished apartment. Time in representation, forty-five minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



158 SCHOOL. A Comedy in four acts, by T.'W. Boliertson. 

Six male and sis female characters. Is a very superior piece, and has 
three cliaracters unusually good for either sex. Could be played with fine 
effect at a j^'irls' seminary. Costumes modern. Scenery, English land- 
scape and genteel interiors. Time in representation, two hours and forty 
minutes. 

159 IN THE "WRONG HOUSE. A Farce in one act, by 

Martin Bccher. Four male and two female characters. A very justly 
popuhir piece. Two of the male characters are excellent for light and low 
comedian. Good parts, too, for ayoung and old lady. Costumes modem. 
Scenery, an ordinary room. Time in representation, twenty-five minutes. 

160 BLO"W FOR BLO'W. A Brama in a Prologue and 

thi-ee acts, by Henry J. Byron. Eleven male and six female characters. 
Full of homely pathos as well as rich humor. Has several excellent parts. 
Costumes modern. Scenery, interiors of offices and dwellings. Time in 
representation, three hours. 

161 WOMAN'S VOWS AND MASONS' OATHS. In four 

acts, by A. J. H. Duganne. Ten male and four female characters. Has 
effective situations, line characters and beautiful dialogues. Costumes 
modern, with Fedenil and Confederate uniforms. Scenery, interiors in 
country houses, and warlike encampments. Time iu performance, two 
hours and thirty minutes. 

162 UNCLE'S W^ILL. A Comedietta in one act, by S. 

'i hey re Smith. Two male and one female characters. A brilliant piece ; 
can be easily played in a parlor. Costumes modern, and naval uniform 
for Charles. Scenery, set interior drawing room. Time in representation, 
thirty minutes. _, 

163 MARCO RETTi. A romantic Drama in three acts, by 

John M. Kingdom. Ten male and three female characters. A thrillingly 
effective piece, full of strong scenes. Costumes, brigands and rich Italian's 
dress. Scenery, interior of castle, mountain passes, and princely ball 
room. Time in representation, two hours. 

164 LITTLE RUBY ; or, Homo Jewels. A domestic Drama 

in three acts, by J. J. Wallace. Six nuile and six female characters. 
This drama is at once affecting and effective. Little Ruby fine per- 
sonation for young prodigy. Costumes modern. Scenery, interior of 
dwelling and gardens. Time in representation, two hours. 

165 THE LIVING STATUE. A Farce in one act, by JoseT>b 

J. Dilley and James Allen. Three male and two female characters. Brim- 
ful of fim. Trotter a great character for a droll low comedian. Costumes 
modern, with one old Roman warrior dress. Scenery, a plain interior. 

166 BARBELL vs. PICKW^ICK. A Farcical sketch in 

one act, arranged from Charles Dickens. Six male and two female cha- 
racters. Uncommonly funny. Affords good chance to 'take off" local 
legal celebrities. Costumes modern. Scenery, a court room. Time in 
performance, thirty minutes. 

167 APPLE BLOSSOMS. A Comedy in three acts, by James 

Albery. Seven male and three female characters. A pleasing jjiece, 
with rich part for an eccentric comedian. Costumes modem English. 
Scenery, exterior and interior of inn. Time in representation, two hours 
and twenty minutes. 

168 TW^EEDIE'S RIGHTS. A Comedy in two acts, by 

James Albery. Four male and two female characters. Has several ex- 
cellent characters. John Tweedie, powerful jjersonution ; Tim Whifllcr 
very funny. Costumes modern. Scenery, a stone mason's yard and 
modest interior. Time in representation, one hour and twenty-five 
minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 

No. 

169 MY UNCLE'S SUIT. A Farce in one act, by Martin 

Becher. Pour male and one female characters. Has a jolly good low 
comedy part, a tine liirht comedy one, and :i brisk, pert lady's maid. 
Costumes modern. Scenery, a well furnislied sitting room. Time in rep- 
resentation, thirty minutes. 

ITO ONLY SOMEBODY; or, Dreadfully Alarming. A 

Farce in one act, by Conway Edwardes and Edward Cullerne. Four 
male and two female characters. Immensely funny. Full of quetT 
incidents. Every way fitted foj- amateurs. Costumes modern. Scenery, 
a garden and back of "a house. Time of playing, thirty minutes. 

11 NOTHING LIKE PASTE. A Farce in one act, by Chas. 

Marsham Rae. Three male and one female characters. Every character 
Bupercxcellent. Billy Doo a regular Burtoiiian part. Admirable piece 
for amateurs. Costumes modern. Scenery, exterior of a small villa, with 
gardens. Time in representation, forty minutes, 

112 OURS. A Comedy in three acts, by T. W. Robertson. 

Six male and three female characters. One of the best and most admired 
plays in our language— while a fair stock company can play it acceptably. 
It has several characters fit for stars. Costumes modern, with British 
military uniforms. Scenery, gardens, park, drawing room, and rude hut 
in the Crimea. Time of representation, two hours and thirty minutes. 

113 OFF THE STAGE. An entirely original Comedietta 

in one act, by Sydney Rosonfeld. Three male and three female characters, 
all equally excellent. One of the sprightliest. wittiest and most amusing 
little plays ever written, causing almost an hour's constant merriment. 
Costumes modern. Scene a handsome interior. 

174 HOME. A Comedy in three acts, by T. W. Robertson. 

Four male, three female characters. A charming piece. Needs but a 
small company. Every character very good. Costume.s modern. Only one 
scene throughout the play. Time of representation, two hours. 

175 CAST UPON THE WORLD. An entirely Original 

Drama in five acts, by Charles E. Newton. Ten male, five female charac- 
ters. A remarkably effective piece. Costumes modern. Scenery some- 
what elaborate, but very fine. Time of representation, two hours and 
thirty minutes, 

176 ON BREAD AND 'WATER. A Musical Farce in one 

act, being a free adaptation from the German, by Sydney Rosenfeld. A 
rollicking little pitce. One male and two female characters. Containing a 
brilliant soubrettc part. Costumes modern. Scene an uncarpeted school 
room. Time in representation, twenty-five minutes. 

ITT I SHALL INVITE THE MA.TOR. A Parlor Comedy 

in one act, by G. von Moser. Containing five characters, four male and 
one emale. A very pleasing little play, with good parts for all. Very 
bright and witty. Costumes modern. Scene, a handsome interior. Time 
in representation, forty minutes. 

178 OUT AT SEA. An entirely Original Romantic Drama 

in a prologue and four acts, by Charles E. Newton. Sixteen male, five 
female characters. Powerfully written. Full of strong situations. Very 
telling scenic effects. Costumes modern. Time in representation, two 
hours and ten minutes. 

179 A BREACH OF PROMISE. An extravagant Comic 

Drama in two acts, by T. W. Robertson. Five male, two female charac- 
ters. A capital, very merry piece. Good for amateurs. Time in repre- 
sentation, one hour. Scenery, two interiors. Costume, modern. 

180 HENRY THE FIFTH. An Historical Play in five acts. 

By William Shakspeare. Thirty-eight male, five female character.s. This 
grand play has a rare blending of the loftiest tragedy, ^nth the richest and 
bro.idest humor. This edition is the most coniplfte m every respect ever 
published. Costumes rich and expensive. Scenery, etc., very elaborate. 
Time of representation, three hours. 




" Let those laugh now who never laughed hefore ; 
And those who always laughed now laugh the more." 

Nothing SO thorough and complete in the xvay of Ethiopian 
and Comic Dramas has ever been printed as those that appear 
in the following list. Not only are the plots excellent, the char- 
acters droll, the incidents funny, the language humorous, but 
all the situations, by-play, positions, pantomimic business, 
scenery and tricks are so plainly set down and clearly explained, 
that the merest novice could put any of them on the Stage. In- 
cluded in this Catalogue are all the most laughable and effective 
pieces of their class ever produced. 

*^* In ordering, please copy the figures at the commencement of each 
Play, which indicate the number of the piece in " De Witt's Ethiopian 
AND Comic Drama." 

d^" Any of the following Plays sent, postage free, on receipt of 
price — fifteen cents. 

Address as on first page of this Catalogue. 



BE WITI'S ETHIOPIAH m COMIC DEAHA. 



1 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. An EtMopian Sketch. 

by J. C. Stewart. Three male and one female characters. Costumes of 
the day, except Indian chins, Jtc. Two scenes, chamber and wood. Time 
in representation, eighteen minutes. 

2 TRICKS. An Ethiopian Sketch, by J. C. Stewart. Five 

male and two female characters. Costumes of the period. Two scenes, 
two interiors. Time in representation, eighteen minutes. 

3 HEMMED IN. An Ethiopian Sketch, hy J. C. Stewart. 

Three male and one female characters. Costumes modern, and scene, a 
studio. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

4 EH ? WHAT IS IT ? An Ethiopian Sketch, hy J. C. Stewart. 

Four male and one female characters. Costumes of the day, and scene, a 
chamber. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

5 TWO BLACK ROSES. An Ethiopian Sketch, by J. C. 

Stewart. Four male and one female characters. Costumes modern, and 
scene, an apartment. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 



DE WITT'S ETHIOPIAN AND COMIO DRAMA. 



6 THE BliACK CHAP FROM 'WHITECHAPEIi. Am 

eccentric Nesjro Piece, adapted from Bwrnand and Williams' " B. B" by 
Uenry L. Williams, Jr. Four male chiiractors. Costumes modern. Scene, 
an interior. Time in representation, thirty minutes. 

7 THE STUPID SERVANT. An Ethiopian Sketch in one 

scene, by Charles White. Two male characters. Characters very droll ; 
fit for star "darky" players. Costumes modern and fantastic dresses. 
Scenery, an ordinary room, 'iime in representation, twenty minutes. 

8 THE MUTTON TRIAL. An Ethiopian Slietch in two 

scenes, by James Maflit. Four male characters. Capital burlesque of 
courts of "justice;" all the parts good. Costumes modern and Quaker. 
Scenery, a wood view and a court room. Time in representation, twenty 
minutes. 

9 THE POLICY PLAYERS. An Ethiopian Slietch in one 

scene, by Charles White. Seven male characters. A very clever satire upon 
a sad vice. Costumes modern, and coarse negro ragged clothes. Scenery, 
an ordinary kitchen. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

10 THE BLACK CHEMIST. An Ethiopian Sketch in one 

scene, by Charles Wh te. Three male characters. All the characters are 
A 1, funny in thH extreme. Costumes modern or Yankee— extravagant. 
Scenery, an apothecary's laboratory. Time iu representation, seventeen 
minutes. 

11 BLACK-EY'D WILLIAM. An Ethiopian Sketch in two 

scenes, by Charles White. Pour male, one female characters. All the 
parts remarkably good. Costumes as extravagant as possible. Scenery, a 
police court room. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

12 DAGUERREOTYPES. An Ethiopian Sketch in one 

scene, by Charles White. Three male characters. Full of broad hnmor ; 
all characters excellent. Costumes modern genteel, negro and Yankee 
garbs. Scenery, ordinary room with camera. Time in representation, 
fifteen minutes. 

13 THE STREETS OF NE^W YORK; or, New York hy 

Gaslight. An Ethiopian Sketch in one scene, by Charles White. Six male 
characters. Three of the parts very droll ; others good. Costumes some 
modern, some Yankee and some loaferish. Scenery, street view. Time 
in representation, eighteen minutes. 

14 THE RECRUITING OFFICE. An Ethiopian Sketch in 

one act, by Charles White. Five male characters A piece full of incidents 
to raise mirth. Three of the paits capital. Costumes extravagant, white 
and darkey, and a comical uniform. Scenery, plain chamber and a street. 
Time in representation, fifteen minutes. 

15 SAM'S COURTSHIP. An Ethiopian Farce in one act, 

by Charles White. Two male and one femaile characters. All the charac- 
ters particularly jolly. Two of the parts c;in be played in either white or 
black, and c. no in Dutch. Costumes Yankee and modern. Scenery, plain 
chamber. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

16 STORMING THE FORT. A hnrlesqne Ethiopian Sketch 

in one scene, by Charles White. Five male characters. Kichly ludicrous ; 
all the characters funny. Costumes fantastical, and extravagant military 
uniforms. Scenery, ludicrous "take oil" of fortifications. Time in repre- 
sentation, fifteen minutes. 

n THE GHOST. An Ethiopian Sketch in one act, hy 

Charles White. Two male characters. A right smart piece, full of laugh. 
Costumes ordinary " darkey " clothes. Scenery common looking kitchen. 
Time in representation, fifteen minutes. 

18 THE LIVE INDIAN; or, Jim Crow. A comical Ethi- 
opian Sketch in four scenes, by Dan Bryant. Four male, one female 
characters. As full of fun as a hedgehog is full of bristles. Costumes 
modern and darkey. Scenery, chamber and street. Time in representation, 
twenty minutes. 



DE WITT'S ETHIOPIAN AND COMIC DRAMA. 



19 MALICIOUS TRESPASS ; or. Points of Law. An Ethi- 

opian Sketch in one scene, by Ciiarles Wliite. Tliree male characters. 
Extravagantly comical ; all the parts very jrood. Costumes extravagant 
modern "garbs. Scenery, wood or landscape. Time of playing, tvfenty 
minntes. 

20 GOING FOR THE CUP ; or, Old Mrs. "Williams' Dance. 

An Ethiopian Interlude, by Charles White. Pour male characters. One 
capital part for a bright juvenile ; the others very droll. Costumes modern 
and darkey. Scenery, a landscape or wood. Time in representation, 
twenty minutes. 

21 SCAMPINI. An anti-tragical, comical, ma^;i<3Al and 

laughable Pantomime, full of tricks and transformations, in two scenes, 
by Edward Warden. Six male, three female characters. Costumes extra- 
vagantly eccentric. Scenery, plain rustic chamber. Time in representa- 
tion, thirty minutes. 

22 OBEYING ORDERS. An Ethiopian Military Sketch in 

one scene, by John Arnold. Two male, one female characters. Mary 
Jane, a capital wench part. The piece very jocose. Costumes ludicrous 
military and old style dresses. Scenery either plain or fancy chamber. 
Time of playing, iifteen minutes. 

23 HARD TIMES. A Negro Extravaganza in one scene, 

by Daniel D. Emmett. Five male, one female characters. Needs several 
good players— then there is " music in the air." Costumes burlesque, 
fashionable and low negro dresses. Scenery, a kitchen. Time in represen- 
tation, twenty minutes. 

24 BRUISED AND CURED. A Negro Bnrlesqne Sketch in 

one scene, by A. J. Leavitt. Two male characters. A rich satire upoa 
the muscular furore of the day. Costumes tights and guernsey shirts 
and negro dress. Scenery, plain chamber. Time in representation, twenty 
minutes. 

25 THE FELLOW THAT LOOKS LIKE ME. A langhaimle 

Interlude in one scene, by Oliver Durivarge. Two male cliaracters— one 
female. Boiling over with fun, especially if one can make up like Lester 
Wallack. Costumes genteel modern. Scenery, handsouie chamber. Time 
in representation, twenty-five minutes, 

26 RIVAL TENANTS. A Negro Sketch, by George L. Stont. 

Pour male characters. Humorously satirical ; the parts all very funny- 
Costumes negro and modern. Scenery, an old kitchen. Time of playing, 

twenty minutes. 

27 ONE HUNDREDTH NIGHT OF HAMLET. A Negro 

Sketch, by Charles \\ hite. Seven male, one female characters. Affords 
excellent chance for imitations of popular "stars." Costumes modern, 
some very shabby. Scenery, plain chamber. Time in representation, 
twenty minutes. 

28 UNCLE EPH'S DREAM. An Original Negro Sketch in 

two scenes and two tableau.^, arranged by Charles White. Three male, 
one female characters. A very pathetic little piece, with a sprinkling of 
humor. Costumes, a modern southern dress and negro toggery. Scenery, 
wood, mansion and negro hut. Time in representation, twenty" minutes. 

29 "WHO DIED FIRST ? A Nec:ro Sketch in one Scene, hy 

A. J. Leavitt. Three male, one female characters. Jasper and Hannah 
are both very comical personages. Costumes, ordinarj; street dress and 
common darkey clothes. Scenery, a kitchen. Time in representation, 
twenty minutes. 

30 ONE NIGHT IN A BAR ROOM. A Bnrlesque Sketch, 

arranged by Charles White. Seven male characters. Has a funny Dutchman 
and two good darkey characters. Costume, one Dutch and several mod- 
ern. Scenery, an ordinary interior. Time in representation, twenty min- 
utes. 



DE WITT'S ETHIOPIAN AND COMIC DRAMA. 

^. ' ;^ ■ 

31 GLYCERINE OIL. An Ethiopian Sketch, hy John Ar- 

nold. Three male characters, all good. Costumes, (Quaker and eccentric 
modern. Scenery, a street and a kitchen. Time in representation, fifteen 
minutes. 

32 WAKE UP, "WILLIAM HENRY. A Negro Sketch, ar- 

ranged by Charles White. Three male characters, which have been favor- 
ites of our best performers. Costumes modern — some eccentric. Scenery 
plain chamber. Time in representation, teu minutes. 

33 JEALOUS HUSBAND. A Negro Sketch, arranged by 

Charles White. Two male, one female characters. Full of farcical dia- 
logue. Costumes, ordinary modern dress. Scenery, a fancy rustic cham- 
ber. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

34 THREE STRINGS TO ONE BOW^. An Ethiopian Sketch 

in one scene, arranged by Charles WLite. Four male, one female charac- 
ters. Full of rough, practical jokes. Costumes, modem. Scenery, a land- 
scape. Time in representation, fifteen minutes. 

35 COAL HEAVERS' REVENGE. A Negro Sketch in one 

scene, by George L. Stout. Six male characters. The two coal heavers 
have " roaring" parts. Costumes, modern, Irish and negro comic make 
up. Scenery, landscape. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

36 LAUGHING GAS. A Negro Burlesque Sketch in one 

scene, arranged by Charles White. Sis male, one female characters. Is a 
favorite with our best companies. Costumes, one modern genteel, the rest 
ordinary negro. Scenery, plain chamber. Time of playing, fifteen min- 
utes. 

37 A LUCKY JOB. A Negro Farce in t-wo scenes, arranged 

by Charles White. Three male, two female characters. A. rattling, lively 

Eiece. Costumes, modern and eccentric. Scenery, street and fancy cham- 
er. Time in representation, thirty minutes. 

38 SIAMESE T"WINS. A Negro Burlesque Sketch, in two 

scenes, arranged by Charles White. Five male charac'ters. One of the 
richest in fun of any goin^. Costumes, Irish, darkey and one wizard's 
dress. Scenery, a street ana a chamber. Time in representation, twenty- 
five minutes. 

39 "WANTED A NURSE. A langhahle STietch in one 

scene, arranged by Charles White. Four male characters. All the charac- 
ters first rate. Costume, modern, extravagant, one Dutch diess. Scenery, 
a plain kitchen. Time in representation, twenty minutes. 

40 A BIG MISTAKE. A Negro Sketch in one scene, hy 

A. J. Leavitt. Four male characters. Full of most absurdly funny inci- 
dents. Costumes, modern ; one policeman's uniform. Scenery, a plain 
chamber. Time in representation, eighteen minutes. 

41. CREMATION. iS.n Ethiopian Sketch in two scenes, hy 

A. J. Leavitt. Eight male, one female characters. Full of broad, palpable 
hits at the last sensation. Costumes modern, some eccentric. Scenery, a 
street and a plain chamber. Time in representation, twenty-five minutes. 

42. BAD "WHISKEY, A comic Irish Sketch in one sceue, 

by Sam Rickey and Master Barnej. Two male, one female characters. 
One of the very best of its class. Extravagant low Irish dress and a police- 
man's uniform. 

43 BABY ELEPHANT. A Negro Sketch in two scenes. 

By J. C. Stewart. Seven male, one female characters. Uproariously comic 
in idea and execution. Costumes, modern. Scenery, one street, one 
chamber. Time in representation, twenty-five minutes. 

44 THE MUSICAL SERVANT. An Ethiopian Sketch in 

one scene, by Phil. H. Mowrey. Three male characters. Very original 
and very droll. Costumes, modem and low darkey. Scenery, a plain 
chamber. Time in representation, fifteen minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



45 REMITTANCE FROM HOME. An Ethiopian Sketch in 

one scene, by A. J. Leavitt. Six male characters. A very lively piece, 
full of bustle, and fiiving half a dozen people a good chance. Time in repre- 
sentatiou, twenty minutes. 

46 A SLIPPERY DAY. An Ethiopian Sketch in one scene, 

by Robert Hart. Six male, one female characters. By a very simple mechan- 
ical contrivance, plainly planned and described in tliis book, a few persons 
can keep an audience roaring. Time in representation, sixteen minutes. 

47 TAKE IT, DON'T TAKE IT. A Negro Sketch in one 

scene, by John Wild. Two male characters. Affords a capital chance for 
two good persons to "do" the heaviest kind of deep, deep tragedy. 
Time of representation, twenty-three minutes. 

48 HIGH JACK, THE HEELER. An Ethiopian Sketch in 

one scene, by A. J . Leavitt. Six male characters. Happily hits off the short- 
haired bragging "fighters" that can't lick a piece of big taffy. Time of 
playing, twenty minutes. 

49 A NIGHT IN A STRANGE HOTEL. A laughable Negro 

Sketch in one scene, arranged by Charles White. Two male characters. Al- 
though this piece has ouly two personators, it is full of fim. Tiii^e in rep- 
resentation, eighteen minutes. 

50 THE DRAFT. A Negro Sketch in one act asid t'wo scenes, 

by Charles White. Six male characters. A good deal of htimor of the Mulli- 
gan Guard . nd Awkward Squad style, dramatized. Time in representation, 
eiyhteeu minutes. 

51 FISHERMAN'S LUCK. An Ethiopian Sketch in one 

scene, by Charles Wliite. Two male characters. Decidedly the best " lish 
story " ever told. It needs two "star " darkeys to do it. Time in rcprescn- 
tiitiou, fifteen minutes. 

52 EXCISE TRIALS. A Burlesque Negro Sketch in one 

scene, arranged by Charles White. Ten male, one female characters. Full of 
strong local satire ; can be easily adapted to any locality. Time of repre- 
sentation, twenty minutes. 

53 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Ne^ro Burlesque, by Chas. 

White. Five male, one female characters, in two scenes. A stunning bur- 
lesque of the highfalutin melodrama ; capital for one or two good imita- 
tors. Time of representation, lifteeu minutes. 

54 THEM PAPERS. An Ethiopian Sketch in one scene, ty 

A. J. Leavitt. Three m.ile characters. Full of comical mystifications and 
absurdly funny situations. Time of representation, fifteen minutes. 

55 RIGGING A PURCHASE. A Negro Sketch in one scene, 

by A. J. Leavitt. Three male characters. Full of broad comical effects. 
Time in representation, fifteen minutes. 

56 THE STAGE STRUCK COUPLE. A laughable Inter 

lude in one scene, by Charles White. Two male, one female characters. 
Gives the comical phase of jiiveiiilc dramatic furor; very droll, contrasted 
with the matter-of-fact darkey. Time in represintation, fifteen mintitcs. 

57 POMPEY'S PATIENTS. A laughable Interlude in two 

scenes, an-anged by Charles White. Six male characters. Very funny 
practical tricks of a fast youth to gain the gove nor's consent to hi ■: wed- 
ding his true love. Half a dozeu good chances for good actors. Time in 
representation, twenty minutes. 



DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 



No. 

58 GHOST IN A PAWN SHOP. An Ethiopian Sketch In 

one ecene, by Mr. Mackey. Four tnulo characters. As comical as its title ; 
running over witli practical jokes. Time of repreeentatlon, twenty min- 
utes. 

59 THE SAUSAGE MAKERS. A Ne^ro Burlesque Sketoh 

in two scenes, arrangt-d by (;li;irles White. Five male, one female charac- 
ters. An old story worked up with a deal of laughable effect. The ponder- 
ous sausage macliino and other properties need not cost more than a 
couple of dollars. Time of representation, twenty minutes. 

60 THE LOST 'WILL. A Negro Sketch, hy A. J. Leavitt. 

Four male characters. Very droll from the word "go." Time of repre- 
fcentation, eighteen mimites. 

61 THE HAPPY COUPLE. A Short Humorous scone, ar- 

ranged by Charles White. Two male, one female characters. A spirited 
burlesque of foolish jealousy. 8ara is a very frolicsome, and very funny 
young darkey. Time of playing, seventeen minutes. 

62 VINEGAR BITTERS. A Negro Sketch in one scene, ar- 

ranojed by Charles White. Six male, one female characters. A broad bur- 
lesque of the popular patent medicine business ; plenty of humorous Inci- 
dents. Time of representation, fifteen minutes. 

63 THE DARKEY'S STRATAGEM. A Negro Sketch in one 

act, arranged by Charles White. Three male, one female characters. Quaint 
courtship scenes of a pair of young darkies, ludicrously exaggerated by the 
tricks of the boy Cupid. Time of representation, twenty minutes. 

64 THE DUTCHMAN'S GHOST. In one scene, hy Larry 

Tooley. Four male, one female characters. Jacob Schrochorn, tlie jolly 
shoemaker and his frau, are rare ones for raising a hearty laugh. Time of 
representation, fifteen minutes, 

65 PORTER'S TROUBLES. An Amusing Sketch in one 

scene, by Ed. Harrigan. Six male, one female characters. A laughable ex- 
position of the queer freaks of a couple of eccentric lodgers that pester a 
poor " porter." Time in representation, eighteen minutes. 

66 PORT WINE vs. JEALOUSY. A Highly Amusing 

Sketch, by William Carter. Two male, one female characters. Twenty 
minutes jammed full of the funniest kind of fun. 

61 EDITOR'S TROUBLES. A Farce in one scene, hy Ed- 
ward Harrigan . Six male characters. A broad farcical description of the 
running of a country journal "under difficulties." Time of representa- 
tion, twenty-three minutes. 

68 HIPPOTHEATRON OR BURLESQUE CIRCUS. An 

Extravagant, funny Sketch, by Charles White. Nine male characters. A 
rich burlesque of sports in the ring and stone smashing prodigies. Time of 
playing, varies with "acts" introduced. 

69 SQUIRE FOR A DAY. A Negro Sketch, hy A. J. 

Leavitt. Five male, one female characters. The " humor of it " is In the 
mock judicial antics of a darkey judge for a day. Time of representation, 
twenty minutes. 

TO GUIDE TO THE STAGE. An Ethiopian Sketch, hyChaj. 

White. Three male characters. Contains some thumping theatrical hitsof 
the " Laj' on Macduff," style. Time of playing, twelve minutes. 



MAHtrSCEIPT PLATS. 



Belozu iVill hefoiind a List of nearly all the great Dramatic 
successes of the present and past seasons. Every one of these 
Plays, it will be noticed, are the productions of the most eminent 
Dramatists of the age. Nothing is omitted that can in any 
manner lighten the duties of the Stage Manager, the Scene 
Fainter or the Property Man. 



ON THE JURY. A Drama, in four Acts. By Watts Phil- 
lips. This piece lias seven male and four female characters. 

ELFIE; or, THE CHERRY TREE INN. A Rf>mantio 

Drama, in three Acts. iJy Dion BoucicauU. This piece has six male and 
four female characters. 

THE TWO THORNS. A Comedy, in four Acts. By James 

Albery. This piece has nine male and three female characters. 

A W^RONG MAN IN THE RIGHT PI.ACE. A Farce, in 

one Act. By John Oxenford. This piece lias one male and three female 

characters. 

JEZEBEL ; or, THE DEAD RECKONING. By Dion Bon- 

cicault. This piece has sis male and liw female characters. 

THE RAPAREE ; or, THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. A 

Drama, in three Acts. By Dion BLiucicault. This piece has nine male and 
two female characters. 

'TWIXT AXE AND CROIVN ; or, THE LADY ELIZA- 

beth. Au Historical Play, in five Acts. By Tom Taylor. This piece has 
twenty-flve male and twelve female characters. 

THE TW^O ROSES. A Comedy, in three Acts. By James 

Albery. This piece has five male arid four female characters. 

M. P. (Mem'her of Pa^'linment.) A Comedy, in four Acts. 

By T. W. Robertson. This piece has seven male and five female characters. 

MARY W^ARNER. A Domestic Drama, in four Acts. By 

Tom Taylor. This piece has eleven male J^nd five female characters. 

PHILOMEL. A Romantic Drama, in three Acts. By H. T. 

Craven. This piece has six male and four female characters. 

UNCLE DICK'S DARLING. A Domestic Drama, in three 

Acts. By Henry J. Byron. This piece has six male and live female cha- 
racters. 

LITTLE EMXY. (David CopTjerfield.) A Drama, in four 

Acts. By Andrew Halliday. "Little Em'ly " lias eight male and eight 
female characters. 



DK WITT'S MANUSCRIPT PLATS. 



FORMOSA. A Drama, in four Acts. By Dion Boncicault. 

Tliis piece has eighteen male and eight female characters. 

HOME. A Comedy, in three Acts. By T. W. Robertson. 

" Home "' has four male and three female characters. 

AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN ; or, THE SQUIRE'S LAST 

Shilling. A Drama, in four Acts. By Henry J. Byron. This piece con- 
tains nme male, four female characters. 

FOUL PLAY. A Drama, iix four Acts. By Dion Boucicault. 

This piece has fourteen male and two female characters. 

AFTER DARK. A Drama, in four Acts. By Dion Bouci- 
cault. This piece has fourteen male and two female characters. 

ARRAH-NA-POGUE. A Drama, in three Acts. By Dion 

Boucicault. This piece lias fourteen male and two female characters. 

BREACH OF PROMISE. A Comic Drama, in two Acts. By 

T. W. Robertson. The piece has five male and two female characters. 

BLACK AND "WHITE. A Drama,intlireR Acts. ByWilkie 

Collins and Charles Fechter. This piece has six male and two female cha- 
racters. 

PARTNERS FOR LIFE. A Comedy, in three Acts. By 

Henry J. Byron. This piece lias seven male and four female characters. 

KERRY ; or. Night and Morning. A Comedy, in one Act. 

By Dion Boucicault. This piece contains four male and two female char- 
acters. 

HINKO ; or, THE HEADSMAN'S DAUGHTER. A Roman- 
tic Play, in a Pro oguo and five Acts. By W. O. Wills. The Prologue con- 
tains four male and tliree female characters. The I'lay contains ten male 
and seven female characters. 

NOT IF I KNOW IT. A Farce, in one Act. By John Mad- 

dison Morton. This piece contains four male and four female characters. 

DAISY FARM. A Drama, in four Acts. By Henry J. Byron 

• This piece contains ten male and four female characters. 

EILEEN OGE ; or. DARK'S THE HOUR BEFORE THE 

Dawn. A Drama, in four Acts. By Edmund Falconer. This piece con- 
tains fifteen male and four female characters. 

TTVEEDIE'S RIGHTS. A Comedy-Drama, in two Acts. By 

James Albery. This piece has four male, two female characters. 

NOTRE DAME; or, THE GIPSY GIRL OF PARIS. A 

Romantic Drama, in three Acts. By Andrew Ilalliday. This play has 
seven male, four female characters. 

JOAN OF ARC. A Tragedy, in Five Acts. By Tom Taylor. 

This piece has twenty-one male, four female characters. 



Manuscript copies of these very effective and very suc- 
cessful plays are now ready, and will be furnished to Man- 
agers on very reasonable terms. 



5E WITT'S ELOCUTIOKAET SEEIES, 

PRICE IS CENTS EACH. 



Tottnff people who tvere desirous of acquiring a practical Jcnoivledge of the beauti- 
ful, as well as highly useful art of Reading and Speaking correctly and elegantly, 
have found great difficulty in procuring books that would teach them rather in the 
manner of a genial triend than an imperious master. Such books we here present 
to the public in " De Witt's Elocutionary Series.^' Not only are the selections made 
very carefully from the abundant harvest of dramatic literature, but the accomj)any- 
ing INSTRUCTIONS are so plain, direct and forcible, that the least intelligent can 
easily understand all the rules and pi ecepts of the glorious a' t that has immortalized 
Boscius and Kean, Chatham and Henry. 



No. 1. THE ACADEMIC SPEAKER. Containing an un- 
usual variety of striking Dramatic Dialogues, and otlier most effective 
scenes. Selected witti great care and judgment from the noblest and 
wittiest Dramas, Comedies and Farces most popular upon the best stages. 
Interspersed with such able, plain and practical criticisms and remarks 
upon Elocution and stage eflects, as to render this work the most valuable 
hand-book to the young orator that has ever been produced. 

COKTEIVTS.— General Inlrodurtory Remarks ; On llie quality of Selections ; On Tnie Eloquence j 
Oh Awkward Dellvcrv ; On Necessity of Attentive study ; On Appropriate Gesture ; On the 
Appearance ofLadies iipon the Sta^e ; The Stajje and the Curtain ; Remarks upon the suhject 
ofScenery ; How to easily Construct a Stags ; stage ArranKemeuts and Properties ; Keniarks 
upon improvising Wardrobes, etc., etc. There are Tweh'e pieces in this book that require fwo 
Male Cliaracters ; Six pieces that require siz Male Characters ; Two pieces that require Jour 
Male Characters. 

No. 2. THE DRAMATIC SPEAKER. Composed of many 

very carefully chosen Monolo{?iies, Dialogues and other effective Scenes, 
from the most famous Tragedies, Comedies and Farces. Interspersed with 
numerous Directions and'lastruclions for their proper Delivery and Per- 
formance. 

COWTEi'VTS.— There are three pieceil In this book that require oiK" Male Character; One that requires 
three Male Characte;9 ; 7'eM that require («'o Male Characters , Nine that require oiii> Male and 
one Female Characters ; Fniir that require three Male Characters ; One that requires two Male and 
one Female Characters ; One that requlies tico Female Characters ; One that requires one Male ami 
Itco Female Characters. 

No. 3. THE HISTRIONIC SPEAKER. Beinc; a careful- 

compilation of the most amusing Dramatic Scenes, light, gay, pointed, 
witty and sparkling. Selected from the most elegantly written and most 
theatrically effective Comedies and Farces upon the English and American 
Stages. Properly arranged and adapted for Amateur and Parlor Represen- 
tation. 

COSITEIMTS.— Tftrw of the pieces in this book require dm Female Characters; One piece requires 
Keven Female (Characters ; Nineteen pieces that require one Male and one Female Characters ; One 
piece that requires one Male aud two Peoiale Characters; Oiie piece that requires two Male and 
one Female Characters. 

No. 4. THE THESPIAN SPEAKER. Being the best Scenes 

from the best Plays. Every extract is preceded by valuable and very plain 
observ.itions, teaching the young Forensic Student how to Speak and Act 
in the most highly approved manner. 

CPIVTEIVTS.— ^iof of llic pieces in this hook require on? M.ale and mic Female Characters ; Three of 
the pieces requirefftrec MnleChaiactera ; T/iree uf the pieces lequirn two Male aud one Female 
Characteia ; Sepenof the pieces require (t™ Male Characters ; One of the pieces require one Male 
and one Female Characters : Two of the pieces require two Male and two Female Characters ; One 
ol the pieces require four Male and /our Female Characters ; Three of the pieces requir* three 
Male aud one Female Cliaracters. 

*^.* Single copies sent, on receipt of price, postage free. 
' Address as per first page of this Catalogue, 



Ab. Cbmposer. 

8S. Last Fare^vell Tucker. 

S6. Mf Heart is Thine Alone. .Glover. 

ST. Come Bacli to Erin Cl&rtbel. 

»fi. Morn on the Meadow. . .Wrighton. 

OO. .Sad Bro-cvn I..eaves Chantrey. 

91. Fond Memory Glover. 

SS. I Heard a Spirit Sln^ Taylor. 

94. Autnmn Twilight Glcver. 

OS. Roclied in the Cradle of the 

Deep Turker. 

95. Origin of the Harp Muore. 

too. Straagers Yet Clarlbel. 

fOa. Sweet Land of Tyrol Theresa. 

«03. My Pretty Bird, Sing On. 

LlDdbland. 

f 04. Spring and Autnmn Tucker. 

f OC. Upon the Snoivy Mountain Tops. 
Moller. 

tOf. Ave Maria Ouono.l. 

<10. Believe Me if alk Endeariug 

Charms Moore. 

H4. Children's Voices , Claribel. 

US. Long, Long >Veary Day. . .Tucker. 
1«6. Why was I Looking Out? 

Blumenthal. 
IIT. Angels Ever Bright and Fair. 

Tucker. 

l%a. Annie Laurie Tucker. 

tots. My Pretty Jane Bishop. 

ia4. Distant Land Heitslett. 

1 SS. Dream of Love Roflwell. 

tS7. I Love and 1 am Beloved. . Ulchard. 

laS. Xeaia Lutz. 

139. On 4he Mountains BenedK t. 

«30. Oh, Waly. 'VValy. XJp the BanU. 

Bluinendnl. 

131. The Birds were Telling One 

Another Smart. 

13%. Come Sit Thee Down Sinclair. 

133. The Standard Bearer. .Lindpainter. 

134. Shells of Ocean Cherry. 

135. Isle of Beauty, Fare Thee Well. 

Bajley. 

136. Bloom Again, Sweet Prison 

Flower Young. 



13T. 
138. 



139. 
140, 



145. 
14 G. 
14-?. 



160. 
163. 

1C4. 
1«S. 

IGC 
1«"J. 

les. 

lKi9. 
ItO. 
If4. 



i»«o. 

1S3. 
ISC 
198. 
19"S'. 

19S. 
SOO. 



Oompoaer, 

Ever of Thee Hall, 

As I'd Nothing Else to Do. 

Hatton. 

Orieve niot for Me WrlKhton. 

I Cannot Sing the Old Songs. 

Claribel. 

IVhy Da Summer lloses Fade? 

Baiker. 

I Cannot Mind my 'Wheel. 

Mother LInley. 

Araby's D lughter. Klallmark. 

Young Jenny Allen. 

O Fair Dove t O Fond Dove I 

Galty. 

Oh, Keep Me In Your Memory. 

Glover. 

Upon the Danube River. ..Tucker. 

Just Touch the Harp CJeotly, My 

Pretty Loui.se BUnipliln. 

■^Vhen the Corn is YVavIng, 

Annie Blamphln. 

Love's Secret Tucker. 

'^Vhen my Ship Comes Home. 

Lee, 

Bird oa the Tree Nisb. 

Yeoman's YVedding Song, 

Poniatowskl, 

Linden -^Valtl, Aide, 

Michael Bray Phllp, 

Lover's Pen Poniatowskl. 

Eily's Reason Molloy. 

With the Stream Tours. 

Out in the Cold Bagnall. 

The AVishing Cap Wrlghton. 

The Island of Green. 

Arranged by Tucker. 

Meeting in Heaven Wrlghton. 

Jenny of the Mill. Leduc, 

Esmeralda Levey. 

Heavenly Colden Shore. Rosenthal. 
Don't You Bemenaber, Love ? 

Lawrenc*. 

Hark! the Drum Nlth. 

. Anita Ithe Chieftain's AVifeV. 

Bicluirds. 



OPERATIC SONGS. 



lO. Little Blue Butterfly Herve. 

ST. Loving Daughter's Heart. ,. .Balle, 

89. Paradise of Love Balfe. 

09. O Rare Malvoisie! Offer.bach. 

ft. Light of Other Days Balfe, 

T3. Rhotomago's Partner Fair. 

Offenbach. 

TT. Ah : YVhat a Fate t Offenbach. 

SO. Then You'll Remember Me.. Balfe. 

St. Turtle Doves Offenbach. 

S3. 'Tis Sad to Leave Our Father, 
land Balfe. 



54. On Yonder Rock Reclining.,, Anber. 

55. YValk Up Now, This is No Hmm< 

bug. 
S9. Song of the Tight Rope Dancer. 

Offenbach. 

93. These Aching Teeth Offenbach. 

9T. Painted so Fine — Eyes Divine. 

Offenbach. 

99, Anvil Chorus Verdi. 

lOl. Fool, You may Say it tf You 
Please Offenbach. 






tit. 

ttse. 



Composer, 
. Ohs Fio^n^ers so Fair and Siveet. 
OBeiibach. 

. nilgnon Thomaa. 

, Pleused with. IMyself. OITenbucli. 

Heart Bowed Down Balfe. 

Youiij^ A^Bies» Beauteous 

Flo»»er A liber. 

1 Dreamt I Diwelt in Marbl«^ 

Dalls. Balfe. 

Ber Gentle Voice Expressed, etc. 

Baire. 



No. Cbmpoeer. 

119. Tlie Tempest of the Heart. .YerdL 

130. 'Why Linger, Mourner niemory? 

Mellow. 

121. List to the Gar Castanet Balfs. 

ISC The Ball Thomai. 

148. Mf Own, IMy Gaidins Star. 

UacTarren. 

143, Ahl So Pure Flotow. 

ISS. "Where shall I Take my Bride ? 
Berae. 



COMIC AND SERIO COMIC SONGS. 



1. l"retty Polly, if you Lo-re Me. 

Coote. 

«. Fisherman's Daughter BagnHll. 

4. I'll Tell "*'our "Wife Egerton. 

■v. Up ia a Balloon Hunt. 

O. Captain .links Slaclagan. 

11. Champagne Charlio Lea 

la. Thady O'Flyna Molloy. 

13. Tassels on the Boots Turker. 

IS. Tommy Dodd Clirke. 

!■». That's the Stylo for Mo Young. 

18. Pretty Little Flora Leyborne. 

1». Bather the Mea Walker 

es. I 'iVish I was a Fish Hunt. 

e4. Put it ir>o%va to Me Gatty. 

»». Ub, "Wouldn't You Like to Know? 
Musgrave. 

30. "Where Is my Nancy? Hunt. 

33, Imiuenseikoif Lloyd. 

SS. Good-bye, John: or, Chiekabiddy. 

40. Bean, of Saratoga "Vauce. 

42. IVoC ^or Joseph Lloyd. 

44. Calirornia Gold Bunt. 

48. Susan, Susan, Pity my Confusion. 
Buruam. 

BO. "Walking in the Park Lee. 

BS. Bell Goes n-Riugiag for Sa-i-rah. 
Hunt. 
B3. Call Her Back and Kiss Her. 



Uii 



Be. Flying Trapeze Lee. 

B8. It's IVice to be a Father Hunt. 



GT 

08. 
9C. 

IBl. 
1S3. 

ISG. 

IBT. 
1S8. 
1C2. 
ITl. 
l-S*. 
1'5'3. 
IfC. 
181. 
183. 
184. 

18::. 

180. 

ISO. 
191. 

19%. 
193. 



. She Danced Like a Fairy. .Dudley. 
. I IVever Go East of Madison 
Square. 

. Lancashire Lass "Willlama. 

. Rov«'ing Honto in the Morning. 
EJgerton. 
If Eifer I Cease to Love. .Leybourne. 
His Heart -was True to Poll. 

Tucker. 
I'm a Timid, Nervous Man. 

Cherry. 
Rhein "Wine Sharley. . .Leybourne. 

Heathen Chinee Tucker, 

Housekeeper's "Woes Fechter. 

Doivn in a Coal Mine. . .Geogbegan, 

Dolly "Varden Lee, 

Little Coquette Lee. 

Good-bye. Charlie Bunt. 

Bom ! Bom ! Bon* ! Bunt. 

Modern Times Coote. 

The Hardware Line Banks. 

Jack's Present Byron. 

"When the Band Begins to Play. 
Hunt. 
Upon the Grand Parade. . .Davlei. 
Ada w^Uh the Golden Hair. 

G. "W. M. 

Awfully Clever Hunt. 

Perhaps She's on the Railway. 
McCarthy. 
Mother Says I Mustn't Huat. 



MOTTO SONGS. 



34. "Way of the "World Ellery. 

3C. It's All the Same to Sam.. .Hunt. 

46. It's Better to Laugh than to Cry. 

Olifton. 

E4. On, Boys, On, the Course is 

Al«vays Clear Fetchet. 

CO. Act on the Square, Boys Lee. 

I'W. A Bit of ray Mind Bell. 

179. An Old Man's Advice Tinney. 

187. Up and be Doing Smith. 

188. Ten Minutes Too Late Clirton. 



lOS. "Would "Vou be Surprised?. .Coote. 
199. O'Ooanell Aboo Morlne. 

149. Popular Airs for Little Fingers, 

No. 1 . Walking In the Park ; Beautiful 
BpIIs. 

150. Popular Airs for Little Fingers, 

No. 2. Captain JInka ; Tapping at the 
Garden Gate. 
Id. Berger Family ** Bells Maxurka." 



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Treatment Date: May 2009 



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